How it Could've Ended
by Serenity24601
Summary: What would've happened if Dean didn't get there in time to save Sam in that church? What if Sam had decided to finish the Trials? Beginning at the end of Season 8 and all through Season 9 this is how it might have ended if things had turned out differently.
1. Sacrifice

Sam pulled the knife down his hand, cutting into the skin just enough to start a thin trickle of blood. Thunder echoed outside and inside his head as the sounds around him grew louder and softer all at the same time. He could hear the tears dripping down Crowley's face and the sound of rain ten miles away. He began muttering the words to the exorcism. His voice grew to a yell as he could barely hear himself over the cacophony in his mind.

"Sammy!" Sam wondered for a minute if the sound of his brother's voice was in his head, scrambled with all the other memories and sounds that ran around in his brain like chickens with their heads chopped off. But a pounding on the heavy wooden told him otherwise.

The Trials had often screwed with Sam's idea of time to the point where hours seemed like minutes and days like years. The one second between the time Dean yelled his name and the time he opened the doors stretched on for forever. Sam's hand hovered over Crowley dripping blood onto his expensive suit. Sam heard the blood as if they were drops of water falling from a kitchen sink. He heard nothing else. For a moment he wondered if he should hesitate; to wait for Dean to come in, to stop him. They could go back to the way things were. The two of them against the world, fighting ghosts and demons alike. Sam glanced at Crowley. Even this SOB had no chance against the Winchesters. But then again, what would it be like without having to wake up every day knowing danger was just around the corner?

The clock began again and, as if trying to make up for the missing time, the seconds became milliseconds and Sam's decision was made. As the doors swung open, Sam slapped his bloody hand over Crowley's mouth and shouted the last word of the exorcism three or four times. Dean watched him as Crowley screamed and a strange light escaped his eyes and mouth. The noise faded and Sam felt himself falling. He grabbed onto the chair and put his hand out, stopping Dean who had started towards his brother.

"I have to finish this," Sam murmured. He fumbled around in his pockets before finally finding the piece of paper with the last words of the Trials written on it. It took him a moment to read the words. The world resonating around him blurred his vision and screamed in his ears. When he could finally make the out, he yelled as loud as he could and waited. Again the second seemed like years. Sam looked at Dean. And screamed. It was as if the memories, sights and sounds of everyone in the world were inside of Sam, as if he were the earth and everything lived in his brain.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice sounded far away; outside of the world Sam contained in his head.

"Sammy!" And then it was all Sam could hear. The past, present and future called his name and Sam fell. He couldn't feel the church floor colliding with his body or even the torn wooden boards poking into his side. His body was on fire and drenched in cold water, drowning and burning all at the same time. Then a shriek echoed from his head and tore through his whole body. His sight had completely left him but if he could see he would've noticed a bright light explode from somewhere inside him, knocking Dean, who had rushed to his side, onto the floor.

Anyone who stood near a possessed human would've heard a bloodcurdling shriek and seen a cloud of black smoke burst from the body of the person possessed. Each wisp of smoke gathered into one large billowing cloud over a group of pentagram shaped train tracks. Then, like a tornado, they funneled down into a sort of mausoleum, sucked into hell. The door slammed shut forever.

And Sam felt nothing.

He woke up on the floor in the back of the Impala. He sat up and saw his body lying on the back seat above him.

 _Shit,_ he thought, _I'm a ghost._


	2. Ain't No You

"Dean, you're alive." Kevin stared at the older brother in shock.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a crappy shot, Katniss," retorted Dean. He glanced at the arrow stuck in the railing next to him before turning towards the stairs. His brother seemed to grow heavier in his hand as he stared at each step in desperation. "Now come give me a hand." Kevin dropped the crossbow and scrambled over the table, talking all the way.

"Sorry. It's been a bad couple of days. I-I haven't slept, I haven't eaten, I'm pretty backed up. Sorry overshare. Anyway, after you left this whole place went nuts. Th-there was some alarm, and all the machines were freaking out, and the bunker…" He stopped mid stair.

"Is he?"

"Get up here!" Dean yelled. Kevin scurried the rest of the way up and put his shoulder under Sam's other arm. They half carried, half dragged the enormous man down the stairs. With each thud of his brother's limp feet falling down the stairs, Dean gritted his teeth harder until his whole head ached. He could feel Kevin's confused and pitying stare watching him.

"Everything seems fine now." Dean broke the silence.

"Yeah. Maybe when you opened the door it reset the system." They both nodded and continued down the hall quietly.

"You should've seen it, Dean," this time Kevin broke the silence. "I couldn't open the door, my cellphone stopped working, I thought the world was ending."

"Close," answered Dean, "The angels fell."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing good," said Dean with a shake of his head. Kevin nodded and glanced at Sam.

"Sooo… What happened?"

"It's over." Kevin dropped Sam's arm and Dean scrambled to keep his brother from slipping to the ground. He glared at Kevin who stared at him in shock.

"The Trials?"

"Yes," said Dean still staring at Kevin in annoyance.

"They're done?"

"Yep," Dean answered none too enthusiastically, "No more demons." Kevin nodded and put his shoulder back in place. They dragged Sam the rest of the way in silence and heaved him onto his bed before Dean spoke again, picking up as if he'd never stopped.

"I gotta make some phone calls. You hit the net, see if you can find anything angely." The whole time Dean spoke he didn't once look at Kevin, his eyes were glued to his brother's body.

"Dean, I…" Kevin nodded and glanced back at Sam. His long limbs lay splayed out all over the bed. He had rings under his eyes and dried blood caked under his nose. Dean sighed and Kevin glanced at him. His eyes moved up and down the body as if expecting it to sit up at any moment.

"Well," said Kevin, "I should probably…go…get on that…angel stuff." Dean didn't acknowledge him so he slipped out as quietly as he could, closing the door. Dean stared at the body and willed himself to move, to feel but all he could do was fall into the chair next to his brother's bed. He felt numb. Even his racing thoughts were like far away whispers from outside himself; outside the bunker even. Finally with a sigh he straightened up in his chair.

"Let me see that hand," he said. Then, realizing his mistake, he reached for the other boy's left hand. It lay limply in his own hand and covered in blood.

"We'll have to clean this up," he said and hurried out of the room as if the death inside were contagious. He flew down the hall and almost past Kevin's room, when he glanced inside. He stopped.

"What are you doing?" he asked as if the clothes filled suitcase wasn't enough of an answer. Kevin jumped and slammed the suitcase closed as if that would hide everything.

"I thought since the Trials were over," he said, "Maybe I was done." He shrugged. Dean hesitated and stared at the suitcase. Inside, his heart pounded loud and hard. Desperation was practically choking him as he nodded.

"No," Dean said, "You're right. You should go home now. We don't need you." Kevin couldn't believe what he was hearing but he also didn't want to give Dean a chance to change his mind so he quickly nodded and went back into his room to finish packing up. Dean however, turned and flew back down the hallway towards his own room. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. His whole body shook with each breath and the world spun around him. Suddenly, filled with rage, he grabbed the lamp from his desk and hurled it at the wall. For a moment the sound of the crash soothed him but then it faded and the voices in his head were back, yelling and screaming and running around inside his mind faster than he could actually think. Still shaking, he put his hands on the desk and with a roar shoved everything on top to the floor. The clatter matched the rapid pounding of his heart as he continued tearing and throwing and breaking everything he could. Even the pillows and blankets of his neatly made bed made it onto the cluttered floor. Finally, when everything was on the floor and the last crash had faded Dean fell with a thud onto the bed. He barely recognized the room he'd made home anymore. As he sat there staring at the mess he felt a tear slide down his cheek. And Dean began to cry. He put his head in his hands and waited for the stream of tears to stop.

When they had finally begun to slow, Dean looked up. The mess was still there, broken pieces of glass covered fallen pictures of the Winchester family. Dean swallowed and glanced at the door. He half expected to see Sam standing there, pity in his hazel green eyes. Dean would laugh, wipe the tears away ("Don't look at me like that, Sammy") and brush past his brother as if nothing had happened. But the door was still closed and Sammy's body lay a few rooms away, still as, well as death. Dean rubbed his hand over his face and slid off the bed. He knelt on the debris of his rage and folded his hands. He felt silly and stupid and desperate.

"Hey, Cas," he prayed, "I don't really know what's going on up there or if you even have your ears on but I could really use your help. I know you think I'm pissed but I don't care if this is your fault or not. I need you to get to the bunker as soon as you can. Do you hear me, Cas?" He waited. No answer. His clenched fist collided with the mattress as a new river of tears began.

"Damn it," he growled, "He's dead, Cas. Where the hell are you?" Still nothing. He pulled his hands through his hair. "Screw it. This goes out to any angel listening. I'm pretty desperate and… He's dead… He's…I just… I need help." No answer. Dean's head fell into his arms and again, he wept.

Ring! Ring! Dean lifted his head and wiped away his tears. Swallowing the rest of his tears he pulled his phone out of the pocket. His brow furrowed at the unfamiliar number on his Caller ID.

"Who is this?" he answered.

"Dean," the deep raspy voice was unmistakable. Dean stood up, his heart pounding in hopeful dread.

"Cas," he choked on the remaining tears, "What the hell's going on?"

"Metatron tricked me," the angel answered, "It wasn't angel trials. It was a spell. I wanted you to know that."

"Okay. That's great," Dean spit out the words so he could get to the important stuff, "But we have a problem."

"What's wrong?" The concern in Cas' voice almost broke Dean. He sat on the bed and gritted his teeth, resolving not to cry.

"Sam. He's um," Dean ran a hand over his face, "He's dead."

"What happened?"

"The Trials. They…"

"Are they finished?" Dean nodded then realized Cas couldn't see him.

"Yes. And Sam he… Have you heard any of my prayers? I've been praying to you all night."

"Dean. Metatron…he…he took my grace." Dean's heart sunk to the pit of his stomach.

"What?" he barely got the word out through a new bout of tears.

"Don't worry about me, Dean. What about Sam?" Dean shook his head his last bit of hope extinguished. "Dean? I'll get there as soon as I can." Again, Dean nodded.

"Just be careful, Cas."

"Don't worry about me, Dean. I'll see you soon." Dean nodded for a third time and hung up. He had never cried so much in his life. He stared at the wall as a new stream of tears trickled down his face. Wiping his hand over his face again, he got up and went to the kitchen. He wet a rag and dragged himself down the hall. In Sam's room, he ran the rag over his hand and face wiping away the blood.

"You're not gonna wake up in a body caked in blood if I have anything to say about," Dean said as cheerfully as he could. After wiping away the last of the blood he stood back and stared at his brother who stared back at him.

"You gotta wake up, Sammy. I can't do this alone. There ain't no me if there ain't no you." Sam didn't answer. Dean swallowed and made his way back to his room. He fell onto the bed, put on a pair of headphones, and fell asleep to rock music loud enough to drown out the silence of the bunker.


	3. No One Listening

**Authors Note: So I've been putting a lot of quotes straight from the show so I thought I'd put a little disclaimer.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to Eric Kripke and all the other writers and producers of the show.**

 **Alright, now that that's out of the way enjoy!**

Kevin was glad he hadn't brought much to the bunker. It made for lighter and quicker packing. The cacophony in the other room had finally quieted and, after wandering the halls for a few minutes, Dean had closed his door and hadn't come out. Kevin lifted his suitcase and started down the opposite end of the hall. He'd thought about saying goodbye to Dean but neither of them were very good at that especially with everything else going on. Kevin told himself it was for the best. Deep inside he knew it was really selfishness that drove him out of there without so much as a "See you later." But he couldn't take the risk of Dean needing him for something else that only a prophet could do. So with a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand and his mother's voice still ringing in his ears, he slipped out of the bunker and disappeared.

"Thanks Irv."

"Anything for a fellow hunter." Dean hung up and poured himself another cup of Scotch. As he knocked back his third glass, he stared at the empty chairs surrounding the table he sat on. He poured himself another cup. He'd called as many hunters as he could think of and it was only noon. He thought about grabbing Bobby's contact book and making some more calls but the thought of spending the whole day making calls made Dean extremely restless. He gulped down another glass of scotch and stood up before pouring himself another. It took a lot to get Dean drunk but this was a strong Scotch and he'd already drank two beers before starting on this bottle. Now the room had begun to slowly spin and Dean had to admit he did feel a little woozy. He wondered if maybe he should just ditch the glass and finish the Scotch straight from the bottle. He stared at it for a while, his head spinning before deciding to put it away and pull out Sam's laptop. Dean watched the cursor blinking as his head spun with a million search ideas and some other pictures that were probably the result of the alcohol taking over his system. With no leads or anything else to go on, Dean decided it was best to track down Cas. It had been a few days since they'd talked; days Dean had spent cleaning his room and reorganizing the bunker along with drinking whatever he could get his hands on. He'd even left the bunker once to grab some groceries. However, after only ten minutes of shopping he'd begun to worry about his brother and hurried home with a handful of groceries mostly made up of six packs and microwavable entrees.

After staring at the cursor for a few more minutes, Dean pushed himself out of the chair and rummaged through their collection until he came upon a map.

"All right," he said to himself as he began to draw red circles on the map, "So this is where Cas called from on Tuesday - Longmont, Colorado. Each circle is how far he might have gotten in one, two, and three days out."

He sat back down at the laptop and pulled up a news app that Sam had loaded on the computer. There was even a category for murders. The first story was from Longmont Colorado. "Girl Explodes from Inside" read the article. Dean scrolled to a more recent article.

"Emory Iowa," he whispered. He glanced at his map and found within the third circle, Emory Iowa. Turning back to the article he stared at the pictures of the two men with their empty eye sockets dripping blood. "Tortured Priests found Impaled on Posts." Dean gulped and his heart began to race. He could only imagine what the angels might do to Cas once they found him. He grabbed his jacket and was halfway to the door when he stopped. His thoughts flew down the hallway into the room where Sam still lay waiting for Dean to decide what came next. Dean gritted his teeth before hurrying out the door and leaving the bunker and the body behind.

Dean slammed the door to the Impala with an angry huff. His visit to the homeless shelter had come up pointless and he was already beginning to feel frustrated. He picked up Sam's phone, which had been in the Impala since the night of his death. He found the news app and searched for more recent murders.

"Lafayette," he whispered before sighing and starting the engine.

As Cas watched the praying woman disappear, he got down on his knees and stared at the statue.

"I uh…" he cleared his throat, "I don't normally do this but… Maybe you are listening. Sam is…well he's my friend and…if you are listening maybe you'd perform this one miracle for me." Cas stared at the statue as if willing it to come alive. "That's what I thought. The mess got too big for you and now whose gonna clean it up? The Winchesters? Surely not your family. We've only made the mess bigger." Cas sighed and left the church.


	4. I'm No Angel

"Damnedest thing I ever saw," the police chief muttered to Dean, "Vic had a stab wound, but it's not what killed him. It's like his insides were…"

"Vaporized?" Dean finished, "It's been going around." The police chief looked at Dean in confusion. Dean smiled and looked back down at the case file.

"So this guy was a pharmacist from Ohio?"

"Apparently. Total family man, religious. One day, just hops in the SUV, takes off, dies under a bridge here from God knows what. This is his stuff. Help yourselves." Dean took the plastic bags with a nod and the police chief disappeared around the corner. After rummaging through much of the ordinary stuff, Dean flipped through a Bible and then picked up the man's cellphone. He scrolled through tons of horrible songs before coming to a set of podcasts all by the same man.

"Reverend Buddy Boyle," he whispered. He opened one up and it began to play.

"Join me in a heapin' helpin' of glory, friends. When you're in the presence of the divine, you'll know it. And if you let yourself, you'll hear it," Dean skipped ahead to the end of the video. "So," the reverend continued, "Remember, when angels come a-knocking, let 'em on in."

"Shit," Dean muttered, "Damn Reverend's picking up free vessels for those dickheads." Dean slid into the chair beside the desk where he'd dumped the pharmacist's belongings. He pulled up Google on the computer and searched for the Reverend. A map popped up with tiny dots covering almost the entire world.

"Great. Now there's no escape. Cas you better be keeping extra careful." Dean packed up and was about to leave when he caught a glimpse of a man dressed in street clothes, a gold chain draped around his neck. Something about him put Dean on edge but he decided to ignore it and left the station.

His next stop took him to a homeless camp on the outskirts of the city.

"Look, for the billionth time, we're just looking for some information, okay? We're not cops. I'm not a cop. I mean do I look like a cop?" The people had been less than talkative and even now they merely glanced at each other and nodded.

"Well, I'm not," Dean was on his last nerve, "I'm just looking for a friend who's in it deep. Were any of you here the night that guy was killed."

"Maybe," someone finally spoke. A wave of relief washed over Dean.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, he's- he's got dark hair, blue eyes, a little out of it. I think he goes by Clarence."

"Clarence yeah." Dean almost smiled.

"You two talk?"

"Not much." Dean stared at the man waiting for more.

"And?" The relief wave was quickly being pulled back out to sea.

"I think he was on the run." Dean nodded expecting more.

"You see him with the vic-victim?"

"No."

"Okay…" Being tortured to death couldn't be this painful.

"He went to sleep in another part of the resort."

"Where?"

"He's not there now." Dean wanted to take the man by the neck and shake him until the information fell out of him but he closed his eyes and took a breath and thought about what Sam would do.

"Where'd he go?" he asked attempting to smile even.

"I saw him running from under the bridge to the highway." Dean's smile disappeared with each nod of his head.

"You gonna pay me for all this teeth pulling?" he growled, "Where was he headed?"

"He flagged a truck heading north. Detroit, probably."

"Detroit?"

"Truck was marked 'Motor City Meats.'" The man shrugged and headed off. Dean wanted to bang his head on the nearest wall but he felt eyes on him. He glanced behind him but all the other homeless people had disappeared and the place was empty.

Two days had passed since Dean had started his search for Cas and still all he'd found were more dead ends. He did notice something new as he exited the Gas'N'Sip he'd stopped at for beer and pie; the man who he'd noticed at the police station stood at the pay phone pretending to be talking to someone. That's when Dean's suspicions were confirmed. He was being followed. He disappeared down a dark alley and threw his food into a dumpster. With a sad glance back at his pie, he drew his knife from its holster and waited for the other man to round the corner. When he did, Dean lunged at him and pinned him against a wall.

"Why are you following me?" he growled. The man put his hands in the air.

"I'm looking for the angel Castiel." Dean nodded and pulled his hand back. With the hilt of his knife, he knocked the other man unconscious. Thankful for the empty warehouses surrounding them, he dragged his stalker into one and tied him up. He ran back to the Impala to grab as many weapons as he could find then hurried back to where the other man still sat unconscious. He opened a flask of holy water and tossed it into the other man's face. The stalker sputtered but didn't sizzle.

"I'm not a demon," he said. Then he groaned. Dean pulled out his angel blade and held it against the man's throat.

"Then what are you?" The man looked at him but didn't answer. With an angry swipe, Dean cut into the man's shoulder. Bright light as well as blood ran from the cut. Dean wondered for a moment if he'd found one of the fallen angels.

"I'm a reaper," Dean didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

"Why are you looking for Cas?" Dean was confused. And then it occurred to him, if Cas was human and a reaper was looking for him… Dean didn't want to finish the thought, instead he decided to cut deeper into the reaper.

"Is he dead?" Dean choked. The reaper laughed and Dean took another angry swipe at him. His cry of pain made Dean feel a little better and he wiped the blood onto his shirt with a smirk.

"What do you want with Cas?" he said as nonchalantly as he could.

"I'm a bounty hunter. They hired me to find him."

"Who? Naomi?"

"You really are out of the loop. Naomi's dead. Resting in pieces."

"So who's running things then? Huh? Answer!" Dean took another swipe into the reaper's skin.

"Aah!" His scream sounded like music, "Her protégé, Bartholomew. That's all I know!" Dean nodded and cleaned his blade calmly, steadily. The reaper's eyes watched in fear.

"You can kill me. It won't matter. If I don't find Castiel there are others that will. But do what you want."

"Sure." Dean's knife plunged deep into the reaper and Dean relished the feel of it sinking into skin. A burst of light exploded around Dean as blood seeped onto his hands. He pulled the blade out and wiped it again on his shirt. It felt good to get angry, it almost made him forget sadness.

 **Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter was a little boring. Some of the chapters might be a lot the same as Season 9's episodes than others. Hopefully we'll get to the exciting part soon. Don't give up on me yet.**


	5. Dust to Dust

It was one of those rare moments where Dean was thankful that he had met Frank Devereaux. Sure the man had been a pain in the ass when he was alive, but he had taught Dean things that were useful, especially with Sam not around. After searching through every homeless camp and soup kitchen he could find, Dean had decided to hack the city's security system. It took hours and even longer to search every place he could think of where a hungry human might go but he'd finally found Cas following some young woman home like a lost puppy.

"Alright, Cas," Dean cheered, "Finally taking advantage of being human." It didn't take long for Dean to track down the young woman, April, and again he thanked Bobby for making them meet Frank. As he zipped down the speedway he prayed to whoever would listen that no one had found Cas first. That's when it hit him.

"Dammit, Cas. Why do you have to be so trusting?" His foot was glued to the pedal now and his eyes to the road as if willing the Impala to teleport itself. When he finally reached the apartment he bounded up the stairs and kicked down the door. Just in the nick of time too. Cas looked at him with wide eyes from the chair he'd been tied too.

"Dean," he said and then April stabbed him. Dean rushed towards her, angel blade ready, but she flicked her hand and he flew across the room and his angel blade in the other direction. She picked it up and twirled it in her hand like a baton.

"This girl's popular with all the boys." Dean rolled his eyes and grunted. She smiled.

"Dean Winchester. I heard about Sammy. A shame really." Dean could feel anger like blood pulsing through his veins.

"Now Cas is dead too. Tsk tsk. All by yourself." Dean was sure steam must be spouting from his nose.

"Well," she squatted down so to be at eye level with him "Tell them I said hello." The blade was inches from his face. As she lunged forward blade at the ready Dean slid to the floor. Her momentum carried her forward and the blade plunged into the floor and stuck. She tugged at it, grunting. Dean, who lay staring up at her abdomen, pushed her over and grabbed the angel blade himself. Pulling it out of the floor, he jumped up. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. He held the blade to her throat.

"Fix him," he growled. She glanced at Cas and nodded. Slowly, he led her towards where the other man sat covered in his own blood. The angel blade still stuck out of his chest. Dean noticed April glance at it and his heart stopped.

They both lunged for it at the same time. April got it first and swung around almost slicing into Dean's eye. He backed away and they circled each other. Dean attacked first. She moved back and he missed. He spun around and moved just in time as she swiped he blade across his arm. Dean felt warm blood running down his forearm and it felt good, proof he was still alive. He rolled his shoulders and snarled. Their blades met and he grabbed her wrist. She screamed as he twisted her arm and Dean felt a thrill run through his body at the racing of his heart.

"Drop it," he snarled. She nodded. As soon as the blade hit the floor he kicked it as far as he could. Then he twisted her by the arm and spun her to face Cas. She winced as he held her arm behind her back.

"Heal him." She touched him with her free hand and a light covered the room in its warm glow, culminating over Cas' head. With a satisfied sigh, Dean killed his second reaper that day. She fell to the ground with a thud and Dean wiped her blood on his shirt. Cas gasped and sat up.

"Dean." Dean nodded at Cas as if his heart weren't racing with fear and relief. Cas' eyes moved from the angel blade in Dean's hand to the reaper on the floor.

"What happened?" Dean smiled.

Dean was relieved when they finally made it back to the bunker. The car ride had been long and Cas hadn't made it any easier. He'd been too eager to share about his "time" with April. Dean might have found it funny if he hadn't just killed the same girl only a few hours after. Cas hadn't spared any details which made the atmosphere even more uncomfortable then it already was. Dean could just imagine how Sam would react. He could picture the disgust in his brother's face as he turned to look at Dean from his seat, the seat Cas now occupied. They'd both do their best not to laugh and to seem interested. But when Dean turned with a smile to the seat beside him, he met solemn blue eyes instead of laughing green ones. The bunker was a welcome sight and as soon as they arrived Dean hurried inside leaving Cas to close the door behind him. Dean flew down the hallway and towards Sam's room. He hesitated outside the door. Dean wasn't stupid he knew a dead body wouldn't look the same, especially after two weeks. As Dean prepared himself for what he might find behind the door, Cas joined him. Dean opened the door.

The stench was the first thing they both noticed. It gusted out of the room with a force strong enough to almost knock them over. Dean gagged and he was sure if he stepped into that room he'd throw up. But then he looked up. Worse than the smell was the sight. The body on Sam's bed looked nothing like Sam. It had bloated to an abnormal size and foamy blood was caked under his mouth and nose. His whole body was a strange reddish hue and his hair had begun to fall out. Dean held his hand to his mouth as his body wavered somewhere between puking and crying. The first option seemed better to Dean. He turned his head to the side and barfed right into the corner next to the door.

"We have to bury him," Cas said when Dean's stomach finished emptying itself. He nodded but he couldn't bring himself to even touch the body on the bed. He stared hopelessly at it. Cas had already made his way to one side of the bed and waited for Dean.

"I can't…" Dean gritted his teeth and ran. Outside he found a space inside a cluster of trees and began to dig a hole big enough to fit his brother's body. He let the soft chuff of the shovel hitting dirt drown out his thoughts until the hole was deeper and wider than it needed to be. As he finished, Cas joined him, struggling under the weight of the unrecognizable body that now spouted fluid all over the fallen angel. Dean swallowed more bile as he climbed out of the hole and moved out of Cas' way. The angel did his best to lower the body gently into the grave but it still fell with a dull thud as it hit the bottom. Dean winced. Cas stepped back and glanced at Dean. He knew he should say something, something to say everything that he'd ever shared with his brother but final words always seemed so, well, final. Cas nodded and took the shovel from Dean. He began to fill the hole back up. Every shovelful took his brother farther and farther away from him. He flinched with each scoop of dirt.

"Stop!" he yelled. Cas stopped and looked at Dean. "I can't do this." So Dean ran. He ran back to the bunker where he took the Impala and drove as far and as fast as he could. When he returned, he found Cas sleeping at the table, a half-eaten burrito still in his hand.


	6. Slumber Party

A few days passed and Dean did whatever he could to get his mind off the fact that his brother's body was rotting in the ground. He scrubbed down Sam's room and then decorated it as if someone lived there. He helped move Cas into Kevin's old room and even did some clothes shopping with him. He spent as much time out of the bunker as he could. He tried to find small jobs but he knew if he drew too much attention to himself he'd put Cas in danger. So they both laid low most of the time. Today he had made it through two beers before Cas even woke up. The man had been catching up on all the sleep he'd lost as an angel. Dean smiled as he dragged himself into the room dressed in baggy sweats and rubbing sleep from his eye.

"There's some coffee in the kitchen," said Dean. Cas grunted in reply. When he had poured himself a cup he rejoined Dean at the table with the map where he sat staring at Sam's laptop, waiting for something to pop up. He wasn't sure what exactly he wanted but he knew he needed to stay busy.

"You said this table lit up when the angels fell?" Dean looked up at Cas in surprise. It was a strange question and they hadn't really talked about the angels at all since Cas had moved in.

"Yep," Dean answered, "Kevin said the lights went crazy." Cas nodded and peeked at the bottom of the table.

"How does it work?" Dean realized he didn't know. He peered under the table but all he could see were clusters of wires.

"I'm not completely sure," he answered. Cas nodded.

"Perhaps if we could figure it out…"

"You think it could help us find the other angels?" Cas nodded again. Dean looked under the table again and noticed a wire, much larger than the others, running under it.

"Let's follow this wire." And they did. It led them to a door that Dean had never been in before. He heaved it open.

"What the hell?" In the middle of the room sat the biggest computer Dean had ever seen.

"This is old," Cas remarked.

"No kidding." Dean ran his hand along the computer.

"How does it work?"

"It's warm here," Dean said. Looking behind him, he found a wrench sitting on some shelves. He grabbed it and stuck it into the computer. He pulled and pulled. The door flew open and flung Dean back almost knocking the shelves over. He squinted at the wiring inside than looked at Cas.

"I think we're gonna have to call in Tech Support."

Dean didn't tell her over the phone about Sam but as he stood outside the bunker watching for the little red head, he wondered what he was going to say. He remembered when his dad died, having to explain to Ellen and Bobby what had happened. And then when Bobby had died, he and Sam had fought about calling other hunters and telling them where the older man had gone. But now, now there was no avoiding it. Sam was gone and she would notice. And she would take it hard. Dean stood up straighter and tried his best to smile as she rolled up in her car. Her face lit up when she saw him and Dean was sure he'd never seen a smile so wide as hers. For a moment he himself felt lighter.

"Hello bitches," she greeted him.

"Charlie," he smiled and held out his arms, ready for her embrace before she was even halfway there. He pulled her into a tight hug. He'd always loved hugs, though he'd never admit it. He felt like if he squeezed hard enough he could release all his pain. He blinked away tears as he buried his face in her bright red hair. When he felt her start to pull away, he held her tighter. When he finally let her go, he saw a flicker of concern in her eyes. He smiled and it disappeared.

"How are my boys?" Dean's smile shook but he did his best to hide it.

"Wanna come inside?" She nodded and followed him inside. Cas stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting and Charlie squealed. She scurried down the stairs.

"Oh my God," she said, "Is this Castiel?" Cas looked at Dean who shrugged.

"You know him?" asked Dean.

"I read all about him in Edlund's books. Although, I thought you'd be shorter."

"Wait, I thought Chuck…Edlund… finished writing after I went to hell."

"He posted more online. At least I think it was him. It was under the name BeckyWinchester. Sound familiar." Dean chuckled and turned to Cas before realizing it wasn't Sam standing next to him.

"Where's Sam? He didn't want to come say hello?" Cas looked up at Dean and Charlie's sharp eyes caught a flicker of something foreboding. She turned to Dean and noticed tears gathering in his eyes.

"Charlie," Dean's voice was soft.

"No," she whispered. He nodded. She shook her head and felt tears beginning to well up behind her eyes. A hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Cas staring at her with pity in his eyes.

"He closed the gates of Hell. He saved us all." Charlie looked back at Dean as a tear slipped from her eyelid down her cheek.

"What does it matter what he did?" yelled Dean, "He's dead!" Charlie looked at her hands as a silence settled around them. Doing her best to swallow her tears, she broke the silence.

"Where's this computer you were telling me about?"

"Holy mother of computers," Charlie exclaimed as they entered the room Dean and Cas had just found a few hours ago. Dean smiled. She ran her hand along the edge until she came to the part Dean had ripped into.

"This is amazing," she said and then disappeared behind the enormous machine.

"Do you want us to leave you two alone?"

"Seriously," she ignored him, "This is awesome." It only took her a few minutes to hook everything up to her tablet and pop back up.

"Alright," she said, "This may take a few hours to download. So what's the plan? Slumber party? We can braid each other's hair."

"I'm not sure my hair is long enough. I suppose I could braid yours if you taught me." Dean rolled his eyes and Charlie laughed. "It was a joke," Cas nodded his head and tried to laugh.

"How about a movie?" Charlie nodded.

"Cool. What do you have?"

They found a box of movies in Sam's room next to the TV. Charlie pulled out a DVD.

"Awesome. Look what I just found."

"Star Wars?" Cas looked at movie as if it were written in a different language.

"Don't tell me you've never seen Star Wars?" Charlie almost dropped the movie in shock. "Sit down angel boy. You're in for a long ride."

"Charlie," scolded Dean, "I don't think we'll have time to watch all the movies." Charlie stuck out her bottom lip. Dean smiled.

"Why don't you get that one set up? I'll go get some snacks." He left the two of them in Sam's room and hurried into the kitchen. Once inside it was as if he could breathe again. The well decorated room felt emptier than the tidy, unclaimed room Sam had been forced to sleep in.

"Dean." Dean almost jumped as he started the microwave and turned to see Charlie staring at him with concern in her green eyes. Dean recognized that expression, he'd seen it on Sam countless times.

"I don't want to talk," he said. She rolled her eyes and for a moment he wondered if Sam hadn't really been reincarnated.

"I know." He turned back to the microwave ignoring as she sat down at the counter behind him.

"What happened?" Dean sighed.

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, Dean. Cas said he closed the gates of hell? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean turned to her, ready with another angry retort but something stopped him. He didn't know why he always opened up with her more than anyone else. Maybe it was the fact that she knew him less than anyone else. The fact that she listened without trying to explain or fix whatever it is he'd done. That she simply smiled and nodded without remark or at least without too many. Or maybe it was the fact she knew so much about him anyway after reading those stupid books.

"Remember those Trials I told you about?"

"The ones to shut the gates of Hell," she nodded, beginning to understand.

"Well, Sam completed them. And he died and I was too late to stop him."

"You weren't with him?" Her shock hurt almost as much as his nagging guilt.

"I had to help Cas. Something about an angel tablet and anyway, by the time I got back, Sam had finished it." And he went on to tell her the whole story, how Cas had pulled him away, how Sam had cured a demon, how he'd died in agony while Dean sat and watched.

"What are you going to do about, Sam?" she asked when Dean had finished.

"I don't know," he replied. "No more demons means no more deals so that's out of the question. And all the angels are pretty pissed at Cas so there's probably not many out there eager to help his friends."

"And what about Cas? Can't he fix it?" Dean shook his head.

"Metatron took his grace which I think is angel for superpowers or whatever mojo they have."

"Metatron."

"Yeah. He's the dick monkey who threw all of the angels out of heaven."

"Sounds like an intense temper tantrum."

"No kidding." Dean stared at his toes.

"Dean, listen. Remember when we got stuck in that video game together." Dean nodded. "And we had to let things go?" He could hear the emphasis in her voice and it pissed him off. Sam had been like this too when he was alive. Everyone tried to tell Dean how he was supposed to do things but they weren't in his shoes.

"I thought you didn't want me to let him go?"

"I don't but… I mean Cas is right. He did save the world." The microwave beeped and Dean grabbed the popcorn. The steam from the heat went straight to his head and he slammed the door.

"Damn it Charlie!" he yelled, "Why us? Why do we always have to be the ones to save the world?" He threw the popcorn bag across the room. "And every time we do we pay for it. I mean Sam saved the world twice now and both times he paid for it with his life. For once I'd like to save the world and be rewarded for it." He ran his hand over his face.

"You know when I first started hunting."

"Wait," he interrupted, "You're hunting now?" She shrugged.

"It's become sort of a hobby. Last week I took down a teenage vampire and a ghost. Which sounds like a YA novel when you say it out loud." She shook her head. "But that's not the point. The point is when I started hunting I was looking for something magical. A quest of sorts."

"Pfft," Dean laughed.

"It's not funny," she retorted before continuing, "But maybe that's the point. Even in books, even on quests, the hero always suffers."

"What are you saying?"

"It's like in the Lord of the Rings. Frodo saved the Shire but it just wasn't the same. Maybe hunting's like that."

"Like being a hobbit."

"No," she glared at him, "Maybe heroes or hunters pay because even after saving the world they know what's truly hiding in the darkness, the real skeletons in the closet. Maybe the only way to get completely out is to die." She whispered the last three words as if unsure how he might react. His heart sunk. She hadn't said anything he hadn't already thought, except for maybe the part about the Shire. But even as he buried Sam, he'd wondered if this was a hunter's only out. If maybe it was better for Sam to stay dead.

"So you're saying you want Sam dead?" he didn't yell but his words held a sting that nipped both her and himself.

"No," she said, choking on tears, "No. I don't know what I'm saying." Tears began to trickle down her face. "Sam. I loved Sam. He was my big brother, he was…you guys are my family." And she wept. Dean's heart broke as if the tears she shed were his own. He came around the counter and wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shirt. It felt good to let her cry almost like letting himself cry for just one minute and indeed a single tear dropped from his eye. When they finally pulled away she sniffed and tried to smile.

"I came in here to help you and all I did was make it worse." Dean tried to laugh but he couldn't take it anymore. He was done pretending, for once he just wanted to be sad and not feel like he had to be strong. Maybe pain wasn't as bad as he thought.

"Cas is probably wondering where we are." But she was right. He had to go back out there. He had to keep pretending and then maybe one day he'd find that he wasn't pretending anymore and that he didn't miss Sam as much.

When they came into the room, Dean wondered if Cas noticed Charlie's red eyes or the way she sniffled away her sobs. He knew Sam would've noticed right away.

"What did you do?" the younger man would ask accusingly. Then they'd both start teasing him. But Cas didn't seem to notice the tears that Charlie wiped away with the back of her hand.

 **Author's Note: Yay Charlie! So Charlie is one of my favorite characters in the whole series and I just hope I did her justice. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!**


	7. There's No Place Like Home

Dean had been through a lot of crazy stuff. After all hunting was not a normal job. He'd been abducted by fairies, died one hundred times over the course of one Tuesday (though he didn't quite remember that one) and been to an alternate universe where his life was a TV show. He'd seen a lot. He was surprised anything surprised him anymore but, Surprise!, Oz was real and the Wicked Witch was hiding somewhere in the bunker with Dorothy, minus the gingham dress, hot on her trail. And Dean was searching his room for the key to Oz. So yes he was a little surprised.

"You keep your porn meticulously organized but not your…" Charlie scoffed.

"Don't judge me," he said as he sifted through box after box but only came up empty. He knew he'd seen that key before. He remembered finding it when he and Sam had first found the Men of Letters secret hiding place or the batcave as he liked to call it.

"Aha!" he cried. He held up the key just as a cloud of green smoke began to transform itself into the Wicked Witch. She hissed and with a sweep of her hand flung Dean backwards. She began to rub her fingers together as sparks of green electricity gathered in her hands.

"No!" Charlie cried out and sprung towards him. It happened so fast Dean didn't have time to think, only to watch, as the Witch's green lightning reached towards Charlie…and missed. Something had hit her causing her to be a few inches off. The lights flickered as the witch vaporized back into her cloud of smoke and disappeared down a vent. Dean stood up and stared at the object that had hit the witch. It was Dad's journal, which had sat on the desk behind her. Charlie groaned and Dean rushed towards her. She lay against the wall where she had fallen.

"Charlie," he called. She groaned again and opened her eyes with a grimace. He helped her sit up.

"You okay?"

"She missed me." She smiled proudly. Dean stood up and reached out his hand. She grabbed it and with a moan got to her feet.

"Something hit her." Dean said. He searched the room for any sign of her attacker.

"Is it just me or did it drop like ten degrees in here?" Charlie rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Dean breathed out and watched as his breath gathered into a cloud of cold air.

"Sam," he whispered.

"What?"

"Dean!" Cas flew around the corner and into the room. Dorothy ran in behind him.

"Where'd she go?" she asked pushing past him and into the room. Dean gestured with his head towards the gate. Charlie groaned and sat on the bed.

"You okay?" Dean asked. She nodded.

"I think I hit my head pretty hard."

"You stay here with Dorothy. Me and Cas will hunt down the green bitch." Charlie gestured towards the desk with her head.

"Take my gun. I still have one bullet left." The poppy bullets were their last hope although they couldn't do much more than stun the evil bitch. Dean nodded and grabbed the gun off the shelf before running down the hall with Cas on his tail.

Dean didn't remember much after that. He remembered following her through the kitchen- "I just cleaned in here"- and into the library. He remembered shooting the last bullet at her and missing. He remembered her grabbing his head and the next thing he knew he was in a strange garage with his arms around Dorothy's neck and his groin a bit sore. In shock he pulled away and scanned his surroundings.

"Where are we? Is this ours?" Dorothy nodded and Dean smiled.

"Nice," he surveyed the area with a pleased nod before he noticed something missing, "Where's Charlie?"

"She went to take down the Witch with the shoes."

"The what?"

"The shoes." Dean looked at Cas but he looked just as confused although it wasn't a new look for him.

"You didn't go with her?"

"I was a little preoccupied with you two galoots. The witch possessed you."

"Of course she did," Dean muttered as he bounded up the stairs.

"Charlie!" He ran to the room where he'd last left the witch.

"Charlie!" She stood on the railing above his head waving red heels around with a satisfied smirk.

"Ding dong, bitches." Dean rolled his eyes and tried not to show how relieved he felt.

"I don't get it. Is someone at the door?" Dean shook his head and brushed past Cas. As he headed back to the garage he heard Charlie squeak.

"He's just like in the books." Dean rolled his eyes again.

It didn't take long for Dean to move the Impala into her new home.

"Baby looks good in here, huh?" He said when Charlie and Cas joined them. Charlie smiled and motioned her head to the side. They moved to the corner leaving Cas and Dorothy to stare awkwardly at each other.

"So thanks for the slumber party." Dean smiled. "Do you think Sam's a ghost?" Dean's face fell.

"Nah, just a trick of the light... and the air conditioning." Charlie raised her eyebrows clearly not convinced.

"Don't B.S. a . What are you gonna do about it? I mean can ghosts be good?" Dean shook his head.

"I don't know. I just…I still have a lot to figure out."

"Okay but you have explaining to do. When you're ready." Dean nodded and the rejoined the other two.

"Not bad for a bunch of librarians," said Dorothy, "You mind keeping an eye on my bike for me?"

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Dean, "As long as you don't mind me taking it for a spin once in a while." Dorothy smiled.

"Deal." Dean smiled as he surveyed the beautiful bike he'd just been- sorta- given. "Thank you for everything. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rebellion to finish." She turned to Charlie. "So, you coming or what?" Charlie's eyes lit up and Dean felt like he'd swallowed the few pieces of his heart that had stayed whole.

"What?" Charlie tried to hide her excitement but it was too obvious. "With you? To Oz?"

"Yeah," answered Dorothy, "You said you were looking for adventure. Well, here it is, Red. Come help me find my damn dog." Charlie turned her bright eyes to Dean and her smile fell. The light in her eyes turned to concern. A part of Dean knew he had to let her go but a part of him held on tight. She couldn't leave him not now, not after all that had happened. Sure he had Cas but Charlie was his little sister, his family. And he didn't have much of that left.

"You have no idea what's in Oz," he argued. "I mean, t-there's flying monkeys, armies of witches. There's all kinds of danger." Her eyes lit up with each danger he listed off. The piece of her that he'd been holding onto was struggling in his grasp, like a bird flying at the bars of its cage. He had lost her already. With a sigh, he gave her a hug and felt her smile. They stood like that for a long time.

"You take care of yourself and if you need anything…" He couldn't get any more words past the tears in his throat. Her head rubbed his shoulder as she nodded.

"Me?" she teased trying to keep her voice light and cheery, "What about you? Will you be okay?" She pulled back and looked at him the tears in her eyes reflecting his own. He tried to smile but it hurt and he pulled her close one more time. Finally, with a light kiss on top of her head he let her go. She gave Cas a quick squeeze and with a huge smile followed Dorothy towards the door. Dean swallowed the tears he'd been choking on and smiled back. Dorothy turned the key and opened the door. Behind it a yellow brick road led the way to what Dean could only assume was the Emerald City. Charlie stepped onto the yellow brick road and looked back with one more bright smile that for a moment made Dean feel a little bit lighter. As the doors began to automatically close behind the two women Dean fought the urge to run down the yellow bricks after them. Then they slammed shut and Dean reopened them to find the paved road leading out of the garage.

"Do you think she'll be back?" But when he turned to ask his question, Cas had disappeared.

 **Authors Note: Just a small disclaimer, although it may seem like it, I have nothing against Cas, in fact I consider him to be one of the best characters in the whole series but I just feel like in this situation he's a bit oblivious. Not because he's a horrible person but just because he just started being human so he has a lot to learn. I just wanted to let you know so that you guys wouldn't hate me. I also think that Dean probably finds it harder to open up to Cas than to Charlie just because Charlie seems easier to talk too and a little less awkward. That being said I'll certainly miss the little redhead both in this story and in the show. She was one of my absolute favorites. :(**


	8. Dog Dean Afternoon: Abridged

Dean thought that after meeting the Wicked Witch and discovering Oz he was done with surprises but as usual when he thought this he turned to find something new and just as weird. To tell the truth he kind of missed being a dog. He missed having his only problems being the jerk pigeon threatening to ruin his Baby, or the fact that he had strange animal urges despite being human. He missed the simple joys of playing fetch with Cas' burger wrapper, yelling at the mailman, or sticking his head out of the car while riding in the passenger's seat (yes he had let Cas drive). Being a dog had been so carefree and fun that in a way Dean hadn't wanted it to end. But of course it had to end. After finding the culprit, a weird witch man who ate parts of animals to receive their abilities, the piece of Dean that could communicate with animals had faded and he found himself back to his normal, troubled life. Sam would've laughed if he'd seen his brother as a dog and he'd never let Dean hear the end of it. He'd constantly tease him about flirting with the poodle, arguing with the pigeon or even about when he'd called on the other dogs to help him take down Chef Leo or whatever that creepy bastards name was. Dean chuckled as he pulled into the garage under the bunker. But as he left the safety of loud rock music and the purring of his engine, he had the strangest thought. For the first time in his life, Dean wanted a dog. Dean had never been the biggest fan of dogs. In fact it was always Sam begging their father just to own one. Of course with constantly being on the road and never having a place to settle, owning any sort of pet was completely out of the question. But now that Dean had settled in to a home sort of atmosphere, he wondered if it would be worth the time and energy just to fill this void of loneliness he'd been feeling since Sam died. Of course he wouldn't be able to spend much time with it, with the constant hunting and all, and there was the fact that he already had his hands full trying to manage human Cas but just for a second as Dean wandered past Sam's empty room he wondered if it would be worth it. Naturally, the logical side of him-which often sounded like Sam's voice inside Dean's head-took over and he made his way into his room where he picked up a magazine and put on headphones, finding a way to drown out the lonely silence of the bunker without sacrificing his time and responsibilities.

 **Authors Note: So I kinda thought the story was getting a bit long so I condensed this episode into a bit of a ramble. Hope no ones too disappointed. I think we're finally headed toward the good stuff. Of course I said that last time so we'll see.**


	9. Being Human

"Are you still staring at that damn thing?" Cas looked up from where he sat, glowering at the angel tablet as if the heat of his stare could make it decipherable. He stared at Dean for a moment before finally coming to the present.

"I have to reverse Metatron's spell and since you let our prophet go"-his voice grew harsher- "I'll have to try to read this myself." Dean decided to ignore Cas' jab at his failings and instead address the problem.

"Well you're not gonna suddenly gain the magical ability to read it by just sitting there and staring at it." Cas looked at Dean as if waiting for him to offer a better solution.

"I have an idea," Dean sat down next to Cas and grabbed Sam's laptop. "Why don't we do some hunting?"

"No." Cas' abruptness threw Dean off guard. He laughed it off and began a search for strange happenings anywhere in the US.

"Come on," he said, "We make a great team. Think about the last gig we did."

"I stayed in the car the whole time." Dean's face fell as he realized this was true.

"Yeah but you said you want to be a hunter."

"And you said I sucked."

"No," Dean argued before remembering the truth, "I said there was room for improvement. Whaddya say we hone those skills?"

"Dean, I'm completely human, I've no power whatsoever."

"So?"

"So I'll be of little use to you and of more use trying to fix what I broke." He turned back to the tablet and Dean sighed.

"Alright," he said, perking up, "I've got a better idea." Cas leaned over as he pulled up an online dating site.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you a date."

"Dean," Cas sounded disgusted, "The last time you tried to 'hook me up' with someone it didn't turn out well." Dean chuckled as he thought back to Cas' experience at the brothel.

"This is different," Dean assured him, "This is a date, you know dinner, holding hands, whole nine yards and if you get a little something else out of it," Dean shrugged, "Well what happens happens. Ya know what I'm sayin'?"

"I think so." Dean rolled his eyes and clicked register on the screen.

"Let's start with a name," he looked at Cas, "Now we obviously can't call you Castiel so think of a name off the top of your head."

"Steve," Cas nodded. Dean stared at him for a second then shrugged and typed Steve into the computer.

"Alright Steve now we need a last name." Cas looked blank. Dean nodded and then an idea struck him and he sprung up. Grabbing the nearest book off the shelf he tossed it to Cas. "Find the first last name you can find in there and it's yours." Cas flipped through a few pages before looking up.

"de Yolton," he said. Dean shook his head and grabbed the book from Cas' hand.

"What we need is a more modern last name." He scanned the shelves. "Aha! This looks more recent." He threw the book to Cas, who opened it.

"Sanders," he looked at Dean who ripped the book from his hands with a satisfied nod.

"Alright, Steve Sanders," Dean said as he sat back down at his computer, "How old are you?"

"I've lost count of all the years I've lived," answered Cas.

"No, Cas, how old is Steve Sanders?" Cas shrugged, "We'll go with 35." Dean clicked to the next page. "What are some things you enjoy?"

"I do enjoy watching humanity." Dean stared at Cas.

"Okay," he said, "That's a little creepy. What is something you like watching them do?"

"Simply talking or laughing." Dean shook his head.

"Where's someplace you like to watch them? How about the park?"

"Yes," Cas smiled and nodded, "Children are the most fun to watch with their innocence and joy."

"Alright," said Dean, "How about we say you like picnics in the park? After all you like the park and…food." Cas nodded.

"What else?"

"I enjoy spending time with you and…" Cas stopped and stared at Dean. Dean smiled and ignored the unsaid.

"What do you like to do with us?"

"When we talk."

"How about 'having beers with friends?" Dean nodded proudly at his work. "Alright, one more thing that makes you seem smart or at least culturally knowledgeable. Do you like to watch TV or read anything?"

"The only thing I've read is this damn tablet." Dean sighed.

"I've got it," he brightened up, "How about I enjoy discovering and learning old languages? I'm so good at this." Cas nodded as they entered his profile onto the site.

"Now all we need is a picture." Dean looked at Cas. "This is gonna be fun," he muttered.

After several attempts at a good picture, they finally got one which Dean had deemed presentable. They uploaded it to his profile and then sat back and sipped their beers.

"What is the common customs for dating?" Dean shrugged.

"Dinner, talking, a movie maybe, maybe a little something more," Dean winked.

"And what is the customary attire?" Cas asked, eyebrows drawn. Dean surveyed Cas' hoody and baggy pants.

"Oh," Dean said, "Well not that. I've got it. Why don't you do some shopping? Then you'll have something more to wear than just..." Dean had jumped up and was rummaging through his wallet for some cash when he stopped, "Have you worn the same thing the whole time you were here?"

"I've borrowed a few tshirts of yours but, yes, the hoody is the same."

"Well you can keep those." Dean grabbed a wad of cash, "Here take this, do some shopping." He began pushing Cas out the door. "Something not to casual and not to classy. If you need help ask someone there. The people with nametags can help you don't ask anyone else. Just ask them what they think would look nice on a date. Got it? Good. Bye." Dean slammed the door in a confused Cas' face and hurried back down the stairs. The truth was he'd been looking for a reason to get Cas out of the bunker. There was something he needed to do.

"Sam," he called, "Sammy if you're there just give me some sort of sign." He waited. No answer. He waited longer breathing as heavily as he could just in case. Nothing. With one last heavy puff, he wandered into the kitchen for a snack. When he came back, someone had pulled up a Word document on the laptop and it read: _Cas, on a date?_

"Sammy?" Dean nearly dropped his bag of chips.

"Dean." It was like a flickery whisper behind him. He spun to see a transparent Sam standing before him.

"Sam," he started towards his brother for a hug. Sam flickered out and disappeared. "Sammy?"

"Dean." He whirled back around. "Sorry I…being a ghost is hard. I have to concentrate to keep this image and…you know what would happen if we hugged." Dean knew. There was no body to embrace.

"Dean. You have to burn my body." Dean looked up at his little brother.

"No," his voice was husky, "I can't."

"Dean."

"Sammy, no. I already watched you die once. I can't do it again."

"Then what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Why does everyone expect me to have the answer?"

"I heard what you said to Charlie. I just…I want you to know this was my choice." Dean shook his head unable to speak through the tears. He'd thought he was done with those. "Dean…" Sam flickered out and Dean sat down at the computer with his head in his hands.


	10. Is This Goodbye?

"All right, here's how it's gonna work. Always open the door for her okay?" Cas nodded distractedly staring out the window at the bowling alley. "Cas, buddy, you listening to me?" Cas turned back to Dean with horror in his eyes. "Ask a lot of questions. They like that. And, uh... Oh, if she says she's happy to go Dutch … she's lying. All right?" Cas nodded again. "Relax and have fun," Dean encouraged slapping his friend on the chest. Cas nodded again and got out of the car. "Go get 'em tiger!" Dean yelled as Cas marched into the bowling alley, dressed in a button down shirt and nice jeans and carrying a red rose. Dean smiled and was about to pull out when somebody backed into the spot in front of him. The huge Ford kept coming back and Dean was sure the driver was gonna hit his baby but the truck finally stopped.

"Jackass," Dean muttered as he backed out of his parking spot. He drove back to the bunker and wandered into Sam's room, beer in hand. He'd just turned on the TV when the lights began to flicker. He sat up.

"Sammy?" he called warily.

"Dean." Sam flickered into view.

"Come to nag me for not incinerating you yet."

"No, I came to hear about Cas' date." Dean smiled and shut the TV off.

"Well, it's seem to be going pretty well. They're going bowling and he brought roses."

"You're idea?"

"Nope, he came up with that on his own."

"Way to go, Cas," Sam said, "And I heard you're on a hunt."

"You know being a ghost must be super useful for spying on people. What else have you been watching?"

"Just answer the question."

"It's the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Healer angel gone mass murderer kind of weird."

"What?"

"Well when I went to check out the first place it was covered in blood. And not just blood, guts and hair and teeth everywhere."

"Gross."

"You're tellin' me. Anyway, turns out this dude was suicidal and not just that the other victims were having problems of their own as well."

"I see? What did Cas think?"

"Well, at first he refused to go with me but when a high school girl exploded I dragged him along."

"And?"

"And he said it's some sort of angel class that went by some weird ass holy name. Anyway, they were like the war nurses of heaven."

"So why kill anybody?"

"Well, supposedly if anyone was wounded beyond repair."

"They killed them," Sam nodded, "But what's with killing humans?"

"Angels man. They just don't understand humans I guess. They 'heard our suffering' and decided to put us out of our misery."

"So anyone's fair game?"

"I guess so."

"Man," Sam shook his head, "That sucks."

"Yeah, I guess it pays to be a ghost sometimes," Dean's voice was harsh as he tried not to look at his brother.

"Dean," Sam said gently, "I'm sorry."

"For what Sam?"

"For…dying. I thought I was doing the world a favor…doing you a favor but I forgot what it's like to be on the other side. To be the one living when your brother is dead." Dean shook his head.

"That's stupid."

"No, it's not Dean. I remember those four months when you were in hell. They were the worst four months of my life. I just…I'm sorry."

"Shut up!"

"Dean."

"No, Sam I said shut up! You see I keep hearing you apologize and telling me how sorry you are but all I see is a past full of dead bodies and all because of us. And we tell ourselves we're saving the world but at what cost? I'm just…I'm tired of saving people only to watch others die. And no apology is gonna fix that."

"Dean, I heard what you said to Charlie. But we saved the world and isn't that reward enough."

"Not if it keeps breaking itself. It's like nothing we fix ever stays fixed. Maybe Charlie's right. Maybe death is the only way out."

"Dean, don't say that."

"It's easy for you. You're already dead."

"And look what good it's done me. I'm stuck in this weird in between place, waiting for my ticket into heaven. Or hell."

"Not funny."

"Dean, all I'm saying is you have to let go of the past, of…of everything. And don't kill yourself." Dean shook his head.

"Dean," Sam's voice grew harsher, "Promise me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Promise me you'll be okay. You won't kill yourself."

"Fine."

"Say it."

"I promise." Sam nodded.

"I just…I wanted you to know how sorry I am."

"Why is this so important to you? I heard you the first time, okay?"

"I just… hoped you knew." Sam disappeared and Dean fell into his chair. He was just about to switch on the TV when his phone rang.


	11. Heaven Can't Wait

"So I saw you like ancient languages?" Cas nodded as his date attempted conversation. "Me too. I was a history major, you know?"

"So you like to study the past?"

"Yes, in a way. Not that it's done me much good. Not many jobs for us history majors. Right now, I'm working retail at a clothing store. What about you, what do you do?" Cas panicked.

"I uh, I'm currently in between jobs."

"Did you quit or something?"

"Or something." She nodded and an awkward silence began to pan out. Cas surveyed the alley and watched the other humans bowl. Than someone caught his eye.

"I guess we should bowl," said his date, Zoey. "Steve?" Cas looked back at her but it took him awhile to realize what she'd said.

"Yes of course. You first. I've got something to take care of." He got up and made his way towards the other angel. "Ephraim, what are you doing here?"

"Hello Castiel," replied the other angel, "I'm surprised you remember my name. I was just a nobody when we met, but you – you were a legend. You've been here before. This is my first time, and it's ... intense."

"You know, there's a lot you don't understand about humanity at first. If you would just stop—"

"Stop? I won't stop … until I wash the planet clean of all suffering."

"Please Ephraim. Their suffering will pass. We don't need you here."

"You do." For the first time in his life, Cas learned the meaning of dread.

"How did you find me?"

"Because you're warded? The same way I find all my patients – I just followed the sound of your pain. You have no idea how loud it is. I could hear you for miles." Cas began to back towards the door and Ephraim followed.

"Do you really think you're doing Heaven's work down here?" Cas asked the former Rit Zien member.

"I know I am."

"Well, you're wrong. Earth can be a hard place. But these humans, they can get better. They're just doing the best they can." As Cas spoke he pulled out the pocketknife Dean had given him and cut into his hand. He began to draw a sigil on the glass door behind him.

"Is that what you think you're doing, Castiel," Ephraim scoffed, "The best you can? Well, I'm sorry. But if this is the best that the famed Castiel can do, you're a more urgent case than I thought. I used to admire you. You failed more often than you succeeded. But at least you played big."

"What the hell are you doing?" Cas turned to face the manager of the establishment, uncovering his bloody handiwork. Ephraim snarled and grabbed a handful of Cas' hair. The manager gasped as the angel kicked Cas to his knees and grabbed his blood covered hand. He pulled it back and there was a snap. Cas yelled out and the manager hurried to get the phone.

"Now what are you doing? Burying your head in the sand. Right when your kind needs you the most." Ephraim twisted Cas' wrist and he gasped in pain. He heard screams around him but his throbbing hand seemed to drown out all his other senses.

"Sh-shh-shh," whispered Ephraim as if to comfort a crying baby, "It'll all be over soon. I'll take the pain away."

"I want to live," Cas begged.

"But as what, Castiel?" he asked, "An angel? A man?" Just then Dean came bursting through the doors and Cas learned a second emotion; hope. Which quickly disappeared when Ephraim flung Dean across the room.

"You say you want to live. But you can't see what I see. By choosing a human life, you've already given up. You … chose … death." Ephraim lifted his hand to Cas' head and a red light began to shine from it. Cas looked at Dean, who slid an angel blade across the floor. Cas grabbed it and pushed it back into the angel behind him who exploded and then fell with a thump to the ground. The screams grew louder and Cas saw Zoey staring at him with shock and fear. Dean grabbed him and dragged him to the Impala. They flew away to the bunker just as the cops began to show up.


	12. Now I'm Alone

"Cas." Sam had never seen Cas jump and he might have laughed it if it didn't take so much energy.

"Sam," Cas turned shocked eyes to the ghost, "You're a ghost." Sam nodded.

"Cas," he said again, "I need you to do something for me."

"What is it, Sam?"

"I need you to burn my bones."

"Please don't ask me that, Sam," Cas sounded tired and Sam was surprised at the emotion in his eyes.

"Cas, I-"

"I already had to watch you die, Sam. You really think I can watch your body burn. It was hard enough burying it." Cas ran his hands through his hair and Sam realized how much being human had changed him.

"Cas, I'm sorry I thought…"

"I know what you thought. You thought that I did not care. Being human has shown me how much life matters, Sam. Even a life as pigheaded as a Winchesters."

"Not mine," said Sam, "My life's not worth more than anyone else's not yours or…or Dean's. And if I become vengeful, I'll be putting both of you in danger. Besides I'm already dead."

"Sam, I know what's really bothering you. I mean I know what guilt feels like. After all, the only person who has screwed things up more consistently than you...is me. And I know what it... I know what it means to feel sorry, Sam. I am sorry."

"I know," Sam assured him, "But I…I can't fix everything I've done."

"You have to forgive yourself, Sam. You can't fix it but you can learn from it. Maybe then you can let go." Sam shook his head.

"It's too late for me now."

"You know old me would've burned you with no hesitation. I would've let the flames devour you because the ends justified the means. But what I've gone through-what humanity has taught me is that everyone can change, angels, demons, maybe even ghosts." Sam nodded and then disappeared.

When Dean entered a few minutes later, Cas held a backpack full of the few clothes he owned.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, his voice accusatory.

"Leaving."

"Sure you are," Dean laughed. Cas tilted his head and Dean realized he was serious. "Why?"

"There're angels after me, Dean. All of heaven wants me dead. If they find me here, they won't hesitate killing us both."

"We can take 'em. We've fought angels before."

"Not without my grace."

"Come on, we got one, we can get others."

"Whole legions of angels, Dean? You really think we could take them? Just the two of us?"

"Yeah," Dean's voice wavered, "Maybe. Come on, Cas." Cas shook his head. He opened his backpack and stuffed the angel tablet inside.

"You're taking that too?"

"Ephraim was right about one thing. The angels-they need help. I have to find them a way home."

"We can do that better together." Cas looked at Dean with pity in his eyes before zipping up his backpack. Dean hurried after him as he started towards the stairs that led to the door of the bunker.

"What changed your mind?" Cas stopped and turned around.

"Back at the bowling alley…I put all those people in danger. They could've died because of me."

"But they didn't, you saved them."

"And Sam?"

"That wasn't your fault."

"But it was," insisted Cas, "If I hadn't taken you away from him, he might still be alive." Dean had never thought about it that way before. What would've happened if he'd been there? Could he have stopped Sam from going through with it? Would his brother be more than a spectral form haunting the bunker? Would he still be flesh and blood? Dean shook his head.

"If I'd been there, he'd still finish it," he said trying to convince himself as much as his friend. Cas shook his head.

"You know that's not true." He began trudging up the stairs.

"Even so," Dean called after him, "We need you, man. I need you." Cas kept walking. Dean bounded up the stairs after him. "Cas, please, don't leave me." Cas didn't look at him as he opened the door. As Dean watched his friend trekking down the road he thought back to a time when he'd watched from the window of a shack as his brother left them behind for California. Only this time, he was truly alone.


	13. Bad Boys

The farmhouse hadn't changed a bit. Even the couch was the same. Dean stared at it with a smile, remembering the first time he'd sat there. He remembered it as clearly as if there was a movie reel in his head; the cop with the shiner, the marks on his arm, the way Sonny had nodded at his answer as if there was nothing strange about it.

"Dee-dawg!" Sonny came around the corner. He was the one thing that had changed. His hair was longer and grayer and he wore glasses. Dean shook his hand with a smile he'd quite forgotten he had.

"Sonny! Good to see you."

"Hey, you too, brother." They clasped hands in a friendly shake.

"So," Dean said "Farm looks, uh, nice."

"Oh, please, man. It's barely standing. Only got a handful of kids working around here now."

"Why's that?"

"Because these days, the system would rather incarcerate a boy than redeem him." Dean nodded and looked around one more time. Maybe things had changed but to Dean the halls were filled with the ghost of good memories.

"So," Dean decided to get down to brass tacks, "What's happening?" And so Sonny told him about the tractor accident and the weird events that led up to it. After telling Dean the story and then rounding up the boys-as Dean asked- Sonny let Dean search the house. He walked into the room where he slept. The beds were the same. The sigils and hoodoo were still carved into the bedposts of the bed Dean had used. Tape and names covered Dean's but he remembered when the bed had been his own and when he'd called this place home. His memories were interrupted by a sound in the bedroom next door. He put his hand around his gun, which he'd stuck in the back of his pants, and kicked open the door. Ruth sat clutching her rosary beads and staring in fear at her intruder.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm praying for us."

"Praying, for what?"

"For the ghost that haunts this farm to leave." And so Ruth told him about the man who'd sworn revenge on the victim because of suspicions and rumors. Dean nodded his mind already running with plans.

"Do you know where Howard's buried?" She directed him to the cemetery and with a firm nod Dean left the house and started towards his car. On the way, he bumped into a young boy. The boy was about to run away when Dean stopped him.

"Where're you off to?" he asked.

"Off to hunt monsters."

"Really?" Dean chuckled, "What kind of monsters?"

"All kinds," said the kid and he held up an action figure, "With Bruce the Monster Smasher."

"Hm," Dean surveyed the doll, "Is that a cape? Little impractical for smashing monsters, huh? You know, you could choke—"

"I clobber evil," said the doll after Timmy pushed the button.

"I bet you do." Dean said, chuckling slightly, "I'm Dean." He held out his hand.

"Timmy." Timmy grabbed his fingers and shook his hand lightly.

"Let's try that again," Dean said and he squatted so he was face to face with Timmy, "If you're gonna be a man, you got to learn how to shake like one, okay? So give me your best Kung Fu grip." Timmy grabbed his hand a little more firmly and shook. "Good. Now look me straight in the eye. Let me know that you mean business. Shake as hard as you can. That's it. You shake like that, you'll be all right." Timmy smiled. "Hey, Timmy, did you know Jack who worked here?" Timmy nodded. "What can you tell me about him?"

"He yelled a lot," answered Timmy, "He was yelling when he had his accident."

"How do you know that?"

"'Cause me and the other boys were playing here when it happened."

"Did you see anything?" Dean asked. Timmy shook his head. "Is there anything else about that night that you can remember, anything at all?"

"It suddenly … got really cold." Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Can I go? I have to finish my chores before Miss Ruth gets mad."

"That Ruth – she runs a tight ship, huh? Yeah, you better roll." The kid ran off and Dean got into the Impala and drove away.

Dean watched the flames flicker in the darkness of the night. It was times like these that he missed Sam the most. He didn't know why. It wasn't like they ever talked, just stood in silence while they watched the fire devour the skeleton below. But it was always good to know that there was someone there beside you even when everyone else might think you were crazy. Someone who no matter what, would always be there. When the body was nothing more than ash, Dean reburied it and ran back to his car. Silence was much different when you were alone.


	14. What Is and What Could've Been

Dean was almost out of town when the diner caught his eye. As he pulled into the parking lot, he wondered if she would still be there or if she'd gone off to pursue her dream of photography but as soon as he walked in he saw her. She was older, of course, and her hair was a different color but Dean knew her right away. Maybe it was her face or the nametag that read Robin. The hostess sat him and as he stared at the menu he thought back to when he'd sat here with Sonny all those years ago. The ghosts of this place were ones you couldn't burn. Both good and bad memories haunted this town but Dean couldn't get rid of them with salt.

"Hi," her smile was just as bright as it had been at sixteen, "Welcome to Cus'. What can I get you?" Dean smiled and waited for some sort of recognition to spark in her eyes. She smiled back but not in a familiar way.

"Bet you never thought you'd see me here, huh?" Dean asked, hoping to ring a bell of some sort.

"Uh, look," she looked around the diner, distractedly, "I'm a little slammed right now. Do you want to hear the specials?"

"Robin," he said, "Dean Winchester."

"Um…" she sounded as if maybe she was trying to remember.

"I used to live up at Sonny's." He looked at her hoping for something.

"Oh, oh," she seemed to be remembering something, "Uh, look, sorry. There's just – there's so many boys that pass through there, it's – it's hard to remember every – every name and face." Dean sunk into his chair.

"Yeah," he said as nonchalantly as he could, "Uh, no. Sorry, I just – I remember you coming up there with your mom. She'd give guitar lessons. It's, uh – it was a long time ago."

"Yeah," she said, "Mom – she loved helping out the boys. I guess that's why I kept giving lessons after she passed." Dean cleared his throat and there was an awkward silence.

"Hey, Robin?" someone from the other side of the diner called her name.

"Um will you excuse me? I'll be right back." She hurried off to answer the call and Dean left. As he tried his best to put the past behind him, his phone rang and he was back where he'd started.

There had been two more victims, Ruth and one of the boys that stayed there. As far as Dean could tell they only had one thing in common, after all he'd seen the boy teasing Timmy earlier that day and he'd mentioned Ruth to Dean the day before. He asked Sonny about the boy but from what he could gather between what Sonny said and the files they had on the boy there wasn't much they knew. After being found in an abandoned barn, they had posted his picture on the internet. When no one came to claim him they tried to send him to Child Services but he kept running away and so Sonny had taken him in. Dean decided he needed to talk to the kid again and, as he wasn't in the house anywhere, the barn seemed like the best place to look. That, however was empty too. Dean searched the whole dank place and was about to give up when he noticed a sort of attic above him.

"Timmy?" he asked and peeked his head inside. No one was there but it wasn't empty. It looked as if someone used this as their hideaway. On the wall there were drawings. Obviously done by a child's hand, they depicted some sort car accident which ended in flames. The woman labeled mom held her child outside the window as the flames devoured her and the vehicle. Dean's eyebrows drew together as he studied the disturbing art. The kid in the drawing had glasses, just like little Timmy and Dean began to put together what had happened. If his heart hadn't been in pieces already it would've broken for the kid. After all, he knew what it was like to lose a parent like that, to watch them burn (although he hadn't exactly seen his mom when she died) but to then have to go on without them. Poor Timmy didn't even have any other family to keep him going. Dean's mind raced with possible solutions as he climbed back down the ladder and hurried back to the house. Inside he heard humming and the gentle strum of guitar strings. He recognized the tune immediately and if it weren't for imminent danger, he might have stood in the doorway for a while listening and reminiscing. But there was no time for that. Just then Robin looked up and saw him.

"Oh," she said, "Hey. Uh, what happened to you at the diner? I turned around to take your order, and you were just … gone."

"Long story," he said distractedly, "Um, have you seen Timmy?"

"No, not yet, but he should be here any minute for his guitar lesson."

"Yeah, we're gonna cancel that," he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, scanning the room for any sort of ghostlike activity.

"What?" She tried to pull her arm away.

"We got to get out of here, okay? I don't have time to explain. You just got to trust me." She laughed.

"T-trust you?" she scoffed, "And why would I do that again?" Dean stopped his distracted survey of the room and turned to her.

"You do remember me!"

"How could I forget?" He read it all in her eyes the recognition, the hurt, the love he could've had. He pictured her at sixteen waiting for him, all dressed up and standing around while other teenage couples danced around her. He'd wanted so badly to go to that dance, to say goodbye, to explain to her why he couldn't stay, but his dad had rushed him out of that home as quickly as he'd left him in it. All Dean could do was watch as the farm grew smaller and smaller and to whisper an apology as they passed the school.

"There were," Dean hesitated wondering how he could explain a life time in as few words as possible, "There were reasons why I had to leave. I don't have time to explain them to you right now. I got to get you out of here." He began dragging her toward the door.

"Hey!" she yelled, struggling to pull away from him, "What are you doing?!"

"I'm sorry." They turned to the speaker behind them.

"Sorry about what, Timmy?"

"I can't stop it," he whispered. A vase crashed on the door behind them and Robin screamed. Dean pushed her into the kitchen, grabbing a fire poker on his way through the living room. Vases and lamps flew over their heads. He pushed her towards the door and grabbed the handle.

"Locked. Damn it!" he yelled. Robin backed to the center of the room as Dean threw open cabinet doors and scrambled for the salt. He found a box and began making a circle around her.

"Whatever happens you stay inside this circle," he instructed, "Understood?" She nodded nervously. Dean backed up and scanned the room, nearly tripping over Timmy who stood in the doorway clutching his action figure.

"I can't control her."

"Can't control who?" Dean asked before remembering the pictures, "Your mom, right?" Timmy nodded. "What happened to her, Timmy? Tell us about the fire."

"It was late, and we were driving home when we crashed in the woods. Everything was on fire. But she saved me, pushed me out. Before the car blew up... with her in it." Dean nodded.

"What else?" he said trying to keep his voice gentle.

"I ran through the woods. I found an empty building, where I hid. I was scared. It was dark and cold. So I cried. I cried for my mom. And then she came."

"But she was different, huh?" Dean asked, picturing the last drawing with a phoenix like "Mommy" hovering above Timmy. Timmy nodded again and Dean followed suit. That's when his eyes caught sight of the action figure in Timmy's hands. "Hey, Timmy," he said, "Did she give you that cool action figure?" Timmy looked down at Bruce.

"Yeah. When I turned nine."

"Timmy, I'm gonna need that." He reached towards the boy and found himself flying in the other direction. He hit the wall as the spirit of Timmy's mom flickered into view. Robin screamed and Dean stood up. Swinging the iron poker, he slashed through the ghost then grabbed the action figure out of the boy's arms.

"No!" Timmy yelled as Dean threw the doll onto the oven and turned on the gas burner. Timmy ran to Robin and watched as the flames began to devour the doll and it began to melt. A window opened and the wind blew inside, opening the salt circle where Robin stood with Timmy now beside her. Dean's brow furrowed.

"That should've worked," he muttered and then sudden realization hit him and he whipped around, his eyes on Timmy. The ghost flickered back into view and Robin screamed and ran out.

"Robin," Dean called and was about to go after her, when he was flung back against the wall. A sudden pain filled his chest as if someone were inside him squeezing his lungs. Each breath was more painful than the last and it was getting harder and harder just to get them out through his mouth. "Timmy," he wheezed.

"I can't stop her," Timmy whimpered from where he now sat curled up against the wall. In the hall, Dean could hear Robin fighting with the door and screaming for help.

"You have to try," he pleaded with the little boy, "She came to you when you cried out for her. Now you have to tell her to stop and go away!"

"She's my mom," Timmy choked.

"She's a ghost. Timmy, because she can't move on, she's going crazy. Okay? You got to let her go. You'll be okay." The boy stared at Dean with wide sad eyes and he thought back to a time when another young boy had looked at him the same way. The same boy that had pulled him away from all this. The same boy who had died to save the world; to save him. The same boy who now haunted the bunker. "Listen to me. Sometimes you got to do what's best for you, even if it's gonna hurt the ones you love." Timmy adjusted his glasses and stood up.

"Mommy," his voice shook, "Stop it."

"Timmy," Dean coughed, "Kung Fu grip!" Timmy stood up taller.

"Mommy," his voice was stronger now "Stop it! Stop hurting people!" The pressure on Dean's lungs released and he gasped in the air that had been missing from them. The ghost turned to her son and held out her arms.

"You have to go," he shook his head and tears welled up in his eyes, "Never come back. I'll be okay. I promise." Dean watched and waited but he couldn't help thinking of his family's ghosts. Everything that still haunted him; his past, his losses, his brother. Things he needed to let go. The burns on the ghost's face began to peel away, revealing the face of Timmy's mom. She smiled, her arms still open wide. Timmy nodded as he choked out through his tears;

"I love you, too." And then she was gone. Timmy gasped and ran across the room to Dean. He threw his arms around Dean's neck and buried his head in his shoulder. As Dean held him and stared around the empty room, he thought back to when he was younger. When his brother would come running to him with tear filled eyes and open arms. He missed the feel of small arms clinging to him and the wet tears left on his shoulder when they finally pulled apart. He wondered now what would've happened if he had stayed. If he'd decided to let his father drive away, Sam in the back seat with his airplane swinging out the window. Would Sam have gone to Stanford? Would he have finished his schooling? Would he still have died? And what about Dean? Would he have a girl and a diploma? Maybe a house, a family and a job as a mechanic? Would he know the pain of all the losses he'd experienced? So maybe all those people he'd saved would die, but wouldn't it be worth it?

"How did you know Timmy asking his mom to leave was going to work?" Sam's voice interrupted Dean's ponderings. They sat in Sam's room while Dean told him about the hunt he'd finished at the boy's home.

"I didn't," Dean shrugged, "Total Hail Mary. I got lucky." Sam nodded.

"You know Dean," Dean sighed, anticipating what his brother was going to say, "What you said to Timmy?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

"About his mom? Maybe you should take your own advice." Dean looked down at his hands, pretending he had no idea what the spirit of his younger brother was talking about. But of course that had crossed his mind, even while he was saying those words to Timmy he'd been beating himself up inside for being such a hypocrite.

"Damn it, Sam," he muttered, pushing himself off the bed, "Look it's been a long day and I really don't need a lecture right now. So just drop it." He was almost out the door when Sam called him back.

"Dean," he said, "Thank you." Dean turned back around.

"For what?"

"For always being there, for – having my back. Look, I know it always hasn't been easy …" Sam shrugged but his eyes begged Dean to understand.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Dean smiled. But he did and it made him wonder, what would've happened if he'd stayed? Where would he have been without Sam?


	15. Where's Sam?

Jody stood inside the yellow tape and stared at the pile of glass surrounding the toppled car. She clutched her phone to her ear.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey, Dean," she said, "Jody Mills."

"Sheriff Mills," he said in happy greeting but he sounded tired.

"I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction."

"Shoot."

"A small town I cover outside of Sioux Falls - only crime to speak of being the occasional cow tipping. Then last week...four people go missing."

"All right," Dean said, "So, what makes you think this is our kind of weird?"

"I've got a witness who says he saw someone lift an S.U.V. to nab a girl last night." Of course that was enough to bring him there.

Hours later the Impala pulled into the parking lot. Dean got out and slammed the door behind him with a large but tired smile.

"Sheriff," Dean greeted her as he bent down to hug her, "Laying off the blind dates, I hope."

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes, "You shut your mouth, boy." As they pulled apart, she waited for the sound of the other car door. But when she looked up it was just the two of them.

"Where's Sam?" she asked. Dean's smile wavered a little but he quickly fixed it.

"Oh," he answered, "He's back at our place."

"You have a place?"

"Yeah. Its top secret," he seemed eager to change the subject, "So what do we got?" As they walked over to the scene of the crime Jody explained what had happened. Dean nodded as she told him about the other victims.

"Was there any connections between the vics?" he asked examining the files she had handed him.

"Yeah," she answered, "They were all members of Good Faith church here. My, uh, my church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it."

"Hmm."

"What?" Jody asked.

"I didn't peg you for churchy," he shrugged.

"Yeah," she agreed, "You know... Choking on the ladies' room floor 'cause of witchcraft kind of makes a higher power seem relevant." Dean chuckled ruefully as he stared at the files. She tilted her head and tried to make eye contact. "Dean," she said, "Is everything okay?"

"Hmm," said Dean finally meeting her eyes, "What do you mean?"

"I mean is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, "Why?"

"You seem kinda distracted."

"Just thinking."

"What are you thinking?"

"Could be angels looking for vessels."

"Wh…Angels? You're joking."

"Don't get your pants on fire," he said, "They suck." He studied the files again. "You said there was a witness."

And so Jody introduced him to Slim. The old man told them about Honor and how he'd watched her disappear. All the while, Jody watched Dean. She couldn't quite read the expression in his eyes but something inside her, maybe it was her mother's instinct, told her something was off. When Slim had finished his story Dean slipped him a twenty dollar bill and sent him packing.

"So we can cross angel off the list." Jody nodded but her mind wasn't on the case.

"Dean," she said, "Where's Sam?"

"I told you back home."

"Why?" Dean sighed and clenched his teeth.

"He can't leave." Jody shook her head.

"He what?"

"He's a ghost," he said it so casually, Jody thought for a moment she'd heard wrong.

"A ghost?" Dean nodded and then it began to sink in. "Sam's dead?" He nodded again and there were tears in his eyes. "Oh, God. What happened?" Dean took a deep breath and rubbed his hands up and down his face.

"Look, Jody," he said, "I don't really want to talk about it. I just want to work this case and go home." But a part of him didn't want to go home, she could read it in his eyes. He needed a job and she had just the one for him. So she sent him to the church.


	16. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

"What the fudge, lady?" screamed the young girl, blood dripping from her nose. Jody wiped some blood off her face before handing her another tissue.

"Wipe your nose dear," she said. When she got back in her car, she rubbed the blood over her oak stake. After sending Dean to church, she'd done some more research on the victims and only to find out, most of them had broken a pledge of virginity made to the church. Of course when Dean, who'd reclaimed his virginity for the sake of the case, had called he'd been too distracted by his chance of hooking up with the leader of the Purity meeting (or whatever the hell they called themselves) he didn't pay attention to what Jody had found. He didn't pay much attention to her warning either. She'd thought it was harmless to let the kid let off a little steam after all he'd been through but when he hadn't called back for several hours she had to investigate. Come to find out the Roman Goddess of Fire, Vesta, was fond of virgins and was using the virgin members of the church as her sacrifices. Specifically the ones who broke their pledge. Luckily, Jody had found a way to kill her. She grabbed her stained oak and headed toward the barn door. The barn was big and it took Jody several minutes to find the trap door. She tried to pry it open but it was far too heavy. She heard voices inside.

"Dean," she called.

"Jody!" he answered excitedly.

"Dean. Don't worry I'm gonna get you out of here." Just then, a hand grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around. The young girl, who Jody guessed must be Vesta, pushed Jody with surprising strength against a support beam.

"Now, now," she said, "Shhh." Jody stared at the goddess' finger which, as it came towards her face, glowed with blue light.

"Really?" Jody never took her eyes off the glowing light hovering inches in front of her face, "This is how a goddess acts?"

"What?" The light flickered.

"I'm sort of new to this, but, you know, a Roman deity burying people alive in a barn? Sort of pathetic, don't you think?" The flame went out as Vesta went for a different approach and punched Jody in the face.

"It only got pathetic when I started having to do it myself. Because of that hippie from Bethlehem - before him, they practically threw virgins at me. And now…"

"They let your fire go out," Jody finished her sentence, "They forgot about you. Yeah, I know. Sucks to be Lindsay Lohan, doesn't it?" Her snark earned her another punch in the face.

"Actually, I figured if you can't beat them, join them," she moved towards a table covered in tarp. Jody eyed it warily as she uncovered it. "That's right. I adapted! Now I chew on the cud of prayer. Heck... I even got a sweater set." She dragged Jody over to the table and threw her onto it. Jody cried out as she pulled bonds tightly around her arms and legs.

"They used to beg to stay pure for me," she continued to rant, oblivious to Jody who had wiggled one leg free just enough to move her knee though her foot stayed bound. "And now I have to drag them kicking and screaming. And they're not even real virgins. They're born-again. You want to talk about pathetic?"

"Yeah," muttered Jody, "You're a real charity case."

"Oh, no, sweetheart," Vesta smiled. She didn't seem to notice the knocking coming from inside her trap door. "This isn't charity. I take what I deserve. When those trollops are about to die soaked in their juicy fear, I...eat...their...livers!" Jody did her best not to gag. "Because that's the only part of them still working to purify the body that they've trashed. Now, normally, I like them weaker, but let's just call this a hunter's exception, shall we?"

"Sure," Jody pulled out her oak stake and did her best to stab Vesta but the goddess was too fast. She grabbed the stake out of her hand and held it over Jody.

"This is how a goddess acts!" Jody brought her leg up and kneed the goddess in the stomach. With a strangled yell she doubled over and stabbed Jody in the chest. Jody had felt a lot of pain before, being a cop was never painless but none like this. Her right arm went numb and tingly and her vision blurred. Tiny fireworks exploded in her chest as blood stained her shirt. A loud bang echoed on the trap door.

"Jody!" Dean yelled. Vesta smiled.

"I guess I know who I'll kill next." As she stalked toward the trap door, Jody pulled loose from her bindings and dragged herself off the table. With one hand over her heart and her numb hand gripping the stake she crept up behind Vesta. It took a ton of effort not to topple onto the goddess as she stabbed her in the back. Vesta screamed and Dean knocked louder.

"Jody!" He yelled. Vesta glowed brighter and then stopped breathing. Jody dropped her hand and waited for the door to open. Dean poked his head out.

"What did I miss?"

A few days passed and they finally let Jody out of the hospital with nothing but a sling on her arm. She was finally starting to move her fingers again and it hurt a little less to breathe. Dean had stayed behind while she was recovering and she wondered if he was avoiding going back to his place (wherever that was). Whatever the case, there was no avoiding it any longer. She'd come over to help him pack. As he began putting the last of the clothing away, she sat down on a chair behind him.

"Dean," she said. He didn't look at her. He knew what she was going to say. "Dean, look…" She examined her hands trying to decide what to say next. "I know what it's like to lose a family member. I lost two. It's the worst feeling in the world and the last thing you want is someone telling you what to do but… you have to let Sam go." Dean sighed and his shoulders tensed. Jody took a deep breath and continued, "I know it isn't easy. When Owen came back I wanted things to go back to normal but they didn't and now not only is my son dead but my husband as well. Even before I knew anything about hunting, I knew something wasn't right but I pushed my instincts down and put my husband in danger. I don't know much about ghosts but if Sam stays too long, you could be putting yourself in danger."

"So what?" Dean finally turned to face her, "You want me to just forget him?"

"Oh no," she shook her head fervently, "No. Never. A lot of people will tell you to move on but that's not what I'm saying. I think there's a difference between moving on and letting go."

"Yeah," he said, "And what is that?"

"Moving on is forgetting. It's finding someone new. It's what I tried to do when Bobby died," her voice choked up and for a second she couldn't talk, "You see where that got me." She tried to laugh but Dean just stared at her with tired eyes. "But letting go is… It's letting them die. It's holding on to the memories while letting go of the person. If you're not going to do this for you, do it for Sam." Dean shook his head and turned back to his packing. Jody sighed, stood up and waited for him to zip up his pack and finish.

"I'd tell you to stay out of trouble but…" she shrugged. He chuckled and she threw her arms around him. After losing Owen her motherly instinct rarely kicked in but as she held the grieving boy she found herself wanting to squeeze him so tight until the pain just went away. But she knew that was impossible so she pulled away with a smile. He smiled back but not without a look of pain and almost a plea. She wanted to say something but she didn't know what.

"Well," he finally said, "I guess I'll see you around." She smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"See ya."


	17. A Filler Chapter

Cas spit out water that had just been sprayed at his face.

"I'm not a demon," he explained but Mrs. Tran still eyed him warily.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I'm here for Kevin."

"What do you want with him?" she held the holy water gun at his face.

"I just need him to look at this," he pulled the tablet out of his bag. She shifted her gun towards it and stared at it threateningly.

"Oh no," she said, "We'll have no more of that. We're done with all your tablets and prophets and angels and demons and we want no part of it." She went to slam the door but Cas put his hand on the door and pushed against her. She narrowed angry eyes at him.

"Please, this is important."

"No."

"Mom." Kevin came to the door. "Hello, Castiel."

"Kevin, I need your help." Kevin stepped out of the doorway and Cas came in. Linda Tran gave Cas a long stare but finally left the room. Cas set the tablet on the table but Kevin only shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, "But I'm done."

"Kevin," Cas pleaded, "I need your help. I need you to reverse the spell." Kevin pushed the tablet back towards Cas.

"I can't. I'm done with that."

"Kevin. You are a prophet. You will never be done."

"Look, Cas. Last time I worked with one of these, people died, Sam died." Cas leaned across the table and grabbed Kevin's shirt.

"Sam died to save people, to save you. Are you not willing to give up your life for this?" Kevin looked as though he was on the verge of saying no. Cas let go of him. "I'll just leave this here then." And he left.

Somewhere else in the United States two men stood together watching cars speed by. The shorter, older one shook his head.

"Humanity," he said, "Frankly I never got used to them. I lived among them for centuries. I had to isolate myself to keep sane." The younger, taller one seemed to carry himself as if he wasn't used to the body he possessed. Indeed this was true. Gadreel, who'd been locked up in heaven since the fall of mankind, had only been in this new body since the angels fell. It was the body of a younger man with a strong jaw and light brown hair. He wore a hoody and other casual clothes that helped him blend into society. Even so, he felt as though he stood out like a sore thumb. Metatron however, was used to the comfort of the body he'd possessed for who knows how long. Gadreel nodded in reply to the other angel's comment.

"Humans do seem chaotic."

"Which makes them fascinating, but... All that emotion. Geez. And the wasted energy. It's just... exhausting." Gadreel nodded again though with a little less certainty. He hadn't been among the humans long enough to find them as fascinating as Metatron seemed to think. He found them confusing and maybe even a little annoying. "I can free you from them," Metatron said, "From all of them." Gadreel wasn't sure whether he meant humans or angels but either way it would be nice.

"You intend to be the ruler of this new Heaven, am I correct?" he asked.

"It is a burden I feel I must accept."

"Then Metatron, does that not make you God?"

"Oh-ho-ho," Metatron chuckled uncomfortably, "Semantics. I don't know that I'd take on THAT name...necessarily. No. When the time comes, we'll call me... 'X.'"

"'X'?"

"You and I ... We could have paradise again, Gadreel." Gadreel thought over Metatron's suggestion. It seemed solitude had not been as exciting as Metatron first thought and now he wanted to recreate heaven but with fewer angels and, as he said, no more stupid angels.

"I will join you," he finally said. Metatron smiled and nodded.

"But first, I will need proof of your fidelity."


	18. Holy Terror

Dean entered and surveyed the room. Cas froze and the policeman he'd been talking to stared at him with one eyebrow cocked. Cas smiled nervously and placed a hand on the man's shoulder, pushing him aside gently. The man nodded, still confused and walked away. Dean joined Cas with a smile.

"Agent," he teased. Cas nodded and an awkward silence ensued. Dean shifted from one foot to the other. "What are you doing here, Cas?"

"As I said before, I want to help fix what I broke. Angel on angel violence? This could be my fault."

"You can't blame yourself for every dick move every angel makes." Cas nodded again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"My job," he answered. They both stood there again. Eventually Dean turned around. "So what do we got here? You said angel on angel violence, so where's the other angels?"

"Dean," Cas said. Dean turned and smiled at him with eyebrows raised. "You can't be here."

"Yes, I can. I've got the badge." He seemed to realize something, "How're you here?"

"I kept the badge you gave me." Dean nodded proudly. "Dean."

"Cas, we have a job to focus on here, buddy. We can hold each other later." Cas stopped and a frightened look fell over his face. Dean chuckled and patted him on the arm. He knelt over the body of one of the victims. Cas knelt next to him.

"You can't be here with me," Cas said. Dean sighed and stood up.

"Look, Cas. I have a job to do here, so if one of us is going to leave, it's not gonna be me, kay? So do you wanna work this case or what?" Cas nodded and they knelt by the bodies again. Dean lifted up a corner of the man's leather vest. A patch read "Boyle's Boys." "I wonder if this has anything to do with Buddy Boyle," Dean muttered as he stood up. Cas stood up next to him a new sort of confused expression on his face.

"Buddy Boyle?" Dean patted him on the shoulder, "Why don't we get a beer and I'll explain?"

"This has been my first beer as a human," Cas examined the bottle in his hand. Dean smiled and hit him on the shoulder. "So," Cas sipped his beer, "Who is Buddy Boyle?" Dean began to explain. It took him a lot longer than it probably should have as he went into the story of his search for Cas and he took long pauses whenever Sam came up, but eventually he finished. Cas nodded and stared at the bottom of his beer bottle.

"So, you think he's leading these biker angels?" he asked. Dean shrugged.

"Probably not him. Maybe he's possessed by an angel." Cas nodded. "Well," Dean stood up, "We need some sleep so let's find a place to bunk down and then we can figure it out from there."

They found a motel to stay in and Cas was glad to have somewhere to sleep. He hadn't told Dean but he'd been sleeping in a sleeping bag at the gas station he'd started working at.

"Alright," said Dean once they had settled in, "Now for my favorite part," his tone suggested it was not his favorite part, "Research. I say we go down to the library and get some intense studying done."

"I think I'll stay behind."

"What?" he said, "Come on. We're partners now."

"Yeah but," Cas hesitated, unsure of what to say next, "I have something I need to do." Dean shrugged but there was disappointment in his eyes. He left without another word. As soon as Cas knew he was gone, he knelt at the bed side.

"I'm not really used to this sort of thing. I'm not really sure how to do this but I need answers." It took him several tries and several positions to finish his prayer but as night rolled around he'd just about given up. Keys jangled and the doorknob jiggled and Cas looked up hopefully from where he'd knelt again by the bedside. It was only Dean. He stopped in the doorway and nearly dropped the fast food bag he'd been holding.

"Are you praying?" Cas stood up and brushed off his knees. Shrugging, Dean came in and closed the door behind him. "How's that going for you?" Cas looked at his hands. Dean nodded as if he understood and Cas felt ashamed. "Hungry?" he held up the food he'd bought. Cas nodded. They ate in silence and after they'd finished Dean fell on his bed. "Well, I'm out," he said and indeed five minutes later he was fast asleep. Cas however found it hard to fall asleep. Even the comfort of his bed couldn't interrupt his speeding thoughts. Eventually, he decided that sleep was not an option so he got up to turn on the TV. Dean of course wouldn't notice as he slept so soundly. He wiggled the knobs several times but the TV made no response.

"Try plugging it in," a feminine voice suggested. Cas whipped around but it wasn't Dean's voice. He was still sound asleep. He crept toward the door and opened it a crack. Peeking out his eyes met the eyes of a woman. She was dressed like a police officer but she wasn't one.

"You're an angel!" he smiled.

"Muriel," she introduced herself, "Though I didn't pick the outfit." She looked back up at him and a spark of recognition lit in her eyes. "Castiel." She said and he nodded. Nervously, she began to leave.

"No," he called, "Wait. Please, just hear me out."

"It can't be known that I even spoke to you."

"I just need a moment," he pleaded.

"No."

"I just need some information." Something in his eyes changed her mind. Maybe it was the softness of the plea or maybe they shared some kind of understanding, both being neutral parties of this angel war. Whatever the case, she pushed him inside and in a hushed and hurried voice explained to him the details of what was going on. An angel named Bartholomew was trying to retake heaven for himself but there were some who did not want him to rule including Malachi another angel with a following who started the slaughter at the roadhouse.

"Malachi?" Cas said, "The anarchist."

"He's become equals with Bartholomew. In some ways, worse," she replied.

"But there's still those like you who want to stay out of it." Cas looked at her with hope in his eyes but Muriel shook her head.

"Fewer and fewer. Each side is rounding up those who try and stay neutral. Angels are being tortured and killed if they don't pledge loyalty."

"It's worse than I thought," Cas sighed.

"Each side wants to crush the other, overthrow Metatron, and rule Heaven, and... Heaven under either of them would be..."

"Hell," as Cas whispered the last word there was a loud crash and the door of the room came tumbling down. Dean sat up in shock as two angels came lumbering inside. Cas slipped his angel blade into his hand and charged at the thugs but they were too quick. One grabbed his arm and twisted it above his head while the other attacked Muriel. Dean came charging at them but the one holding Muriel pushed her in front of the oncoming blade.

"No!" Cas yelled as she screamed and a light exploded from her body. The angel grabbed Dean's hand and pulled it out of Muriel. Pushing her aside, they dragged Dean and Cas to an underground dungeon. They tied Dean up to a concrete beam and chained Cas, standing next to him. His arms hung above his head and he stared at the doorway in front of him, waiting for whichever angel had kidnapped him. Enter Malachi. He smiled.

"This is a bonus, Castiel. We were tracking Muriel and wonder of wonders she led us to you. Plus a Winchester. Today must be my lucky day." Cas winced as screams echoed down the hall.

"Please," he said, "I don't know how Metatron's spell worked. Therefore, I can't assist in reversing it. I was an unwitting accomplice."

"Ohhh," Malachi chuckled with a glance at his thug, "A dupe. The great Castiel. Valued and trusted Castiel. Top-of-the-Christmas-tree Castiel. No more than a dupe." He began examining his torture tools laying on a silver tray next to him, "Dupe or mastermind, you were inside the circle. You know where Metatron's weakness lies."

"No," Cas said, "I don't."

"Theo." The tall scarred thug advanced towards Cas his angel blade ready.

"No," Cas pleaded and shook his head desperately. Theo dragged the blade through his skin and Cas called out in pain.

"You'd suffer, even die for your beliefs," said Malachi, "I get it. But is Metatron, whose poll numbers have totally tanked, worth your life? More importantly, is Metatron worth his life?" He glanced at Dean, who sat slouched and glaring at their kidnappers.

"No," Cas cast a fearful glance at Dean, "No, he's innocent. You leave him alone."

"Innocent," Malachi and Theo shared a conspiratorial glance, "Dean Winchester? Innocent?"

"Cas, did you hear that? This guy knows me. Have we met?" Dean smiled and Malachi snarled.

"No," he answered, "But your reputation proceeds you."

"That's what I like to hear." Malachi gestured to his thug and Cas tensed up as Theo loomed over Dean. He wiped his angel blade on his shirt and knelt down next to Dean. He waved it in front of the other man's face who stared at him as if unfazed. With a quick angry slash, the blade sliced through Dean's shirt. Malachi smiled then flashed irate eyes towards Cas.

"Now tell us what you know."

"Are you really that thick?" said Dean, "He said he doesn't know anything." Theo sliced through him again and he cried out. "You do all this work for him?" he smiled through the pain, "What? Head angel douche doesn't like to get his hands dirty?" Malachi squinted furiously at Dean before stomping towards him. He knelt down and met him eye to angry eye.

"Oh believe me," he growled, "I would love to get my hands dirty with your filthy blood but unfortunately I need you alive so Castiel might talk."

"How unfortunate," muttered Dean. Malachi stood up and made his way back to Cas.

"This guy is really getting on my nerves, Castiel," he said, "You've got one more chance to tell us how to fix this or he dies." Cas glanced over at Dean who tried to smile at him.

"Please," he said, "That's all I know."

"Wrong answer," Malachi yelled. He nodded at Theo who smiled. He grabbed his angel blade. Dean turned to Cas. Their eyes met and, though he tried to hide it, the fear in his eyes echoed the frantic beating of Cas' human heart.

"No," he pleaded. Theo's arm pulled back and it felt as if time slowed. "No!" Cas yelled as the blade plunged into its mark. Death to a human seemed so insignificant. There was no explosion; no sudden burst of light, just a final shuddering breath and a growing blood stain. Cas, however, was filled with a fiery rage. One so unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He'd known rage, a righteous sort of rage, but this was different. His whole body shook with it and he wanted nothing more than to hurt Malachi in a way that would damage him beyond repair. He growled through gritted teeth. Malachi smiled.

"All right," he said, "I leave you in the hands of an artist." He chuckled as Cas lunged towards him in a futile attempt to do something, anything, that would hurt the murderer. Then he left the room, leaving Theo to finish his dirty work. Theo began to wipe Dean's blood on his shirt.

"Don't ask for mercy," he said, "There is none." He shut the door behind Malachi and picked up a drill. "I'll give you one last chance for this to end." Cas felt the rage inside him fading away as he glanced at Dean's body still slouched lifelessly against the beam next to him.

"Give me a quick death," he pleaded, closing his eyes, anticipating the pain. But the pain never came.

"I need you to speak to Metatron," The conspiratorial whisper made Cas jump and he opened his eyes to make sure it was still Malachi's thug speaking, "Everyone knows you have influence. He'll listen to you. Ask him to raise me to Heaven. You can do this, Castiel. I'll be a soldier for Metatron, do anything he wants."

"You – you serve Malachi," said Cas unsure whether he was asking or stating a fact.

"I thought he was the answer, but he's crazy."

"You're... noticing this now? You were more than willing to do his dirty work."

"I did what I had to." Cas glanced again at the body of his friend and chuckled bitterly. What he had to do. He'd took the coward's way out is what he'd done. He tried not to spit in the angel's face.

"When you were sure he would defeat Bartholomew."

"But no one will survive this war," there was desperation and fear in the angel's eyes.

"So, you prefer to sit it out in Heaven."

"I can talk to him about restoring your grace." Hope filled his wide eyes and Cas began to wonder if these people were, as Malachi had put it, the dupes.

"Well, it's, um, it's true," he lied, "Metatron and I do have a working relationship."

"I knew it!" Theo looked relieved.

"You're clever, Theo," Cas did his best not to laugh.

"You're allies," Theo nodded eagerly.

"And he could use a skilled soldier like yourself," Cas pretended to think about it, "Oh, but I don't know."

"I-I'm a team player, Castiel," Theo assured him.

"All right. Well?" He gestured to the chains holding up his arms. Theo eagerly undid them. Cas rubbed his wrists where the manacles had held them. "I'll – I'll need a moment to make contact. And you have something that I'll need."

"Anything," Theo said eagerly. Cas nodded, grabbed a tool of the metal tray and sliced open Theo's neck. His grace came spilling out and Cas opened his mouth letting it fill his body. A searing light filled his whole body as a screeching sound echoed in the large, silent room. Theo stared at him with horrified eyes as the grace worked its way through Cas' whole body, healing him and strengthening him as it went. His rage returned this time mixed with the power of the grace until he felt as though he was neither human nor angel but some other monster entirely. He let that rage carry him as he placed his hand on Theo's head and burned the horrified expression from his face. Then he knelt next to Dean and placed two fingers on his forehead. With a loud gasp, Dean sat up and the chains fell of his wrist.

"Cas?" he said but Cas shook his head. As they exited the room they both grabbed an angel blade off the metal table. Angels lined the hallways but Cas strode through, twirling his angel blade like a baton and stabbing the angels without even looking at them. Dean finished off the last few and they hurried out of the dungeon as quickly as they could. The fury inside Cas carried him far until they were in a park far enough away that they, hopefully wouldn't be found. Only then did Cas fall to the ground, his stolen grace already half drained. Dean collapsed next to him covered in the blood of the angels, his own blood still staining his shirt where he'd been stabbed. Cas didn't know how long they lay like that. Dean might have even fallen asleep. Cas himself didn't want to get up, he wanted to lay there until his body disintegrated and became a part of the grass that surrounded him. But Dean would have none of that. Instead he stood up, on shaky legs, and stretched.

"I suppose we should get back to the motel. Make sure those dick monkeys didn't touch my baby." Cas was too tired to be confused.

As soon as they got back to the motel, Dean ran to his car.

"Baby," he cried, "You're okay. Those angels didn't hurt you."

"Dean," Cas said. Dean put his hands on his car as if to support himself. His shoulders slumped and his chin fell to his chest. Cas watched all of this from behind him, it was like watching the life drain out of him again. "Dean, we can't stay together. It's too dangerous. It's even more dangerous than we thought. There's another war going on and I'm the one who started it…again. I'm caught in the middle of this and I can't drag you into it as well." Dean shook his head but didn't turn around. "I'm a danger to you Dean." Cas flinched as Dean hit the side of his car and whirled around to face him.

"That's bullshit, Cas and you know it. You've got your angel powers back. We're better off working together now." Cas shook his head. "If the angels find us together they'll be less likely to kill me, right?" Dean tried to smile, "I'm mean they'll need me to get you to talk."

"You died, Dean," Cas almost yelled.

"Yeah, so?" And it was then that Cas realized, Dean had never wanted to be brought back from the dead. He hadn't wanted Cas to save him. For a moment, Cas wondered what would happen if Dean were left alone. Would he do it? Would he kill himself? Cas shook his head, Dean wasn't alone, he still had the ghost of Sam haunting the bunkers and there had to be other hunters out there who could help him.

"I can't risk them killing you again."

"You could just bring me back like you did this time."

"My grace it's not my grace. I can already feel it fading by the minute. There could be a chance I couldn't save you again." Dean nodded and Cas could see he was giving up.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Screw you, Cas." As Cas walked away, he heard the slam of Dean's hand hitting his beloved car.

 **Authors Note: So just a few comments. First of all thank you to all my reviewers and followers. Secondly, there will be no Destiel in this story. Hopefully no one's too disappointed. Anyway thanks again and enjoy!**


	19. Familiar Faces

Sam hadn't told Dean yet the whole story about the waiting place. The truth was everyone here was waiting for Heaven to open up again. After Metatron had kicked all the angels out he'd boarded up Heaven to even the new souls passing through. Whenever Sam wasn't haunting the bunker or listening in on Dean's conversations, he found himself wandering the In Between, as he liked to call it, searching for familiar faces. He wasn't sure if the previously dead souls had also been evicted from Heaven but it didn't hurt to look. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of a baseball cap and wonder if it was Bobby or he'd see a flash of blond hair and call out for his mom but no one familiar had turned up yet. Until today. Yes, today he saw a familiar face but it wasn't any of the ones he'd expected to see.

"Kevin?"


	20. Who Killed Kevin?

"Kevin is what?" Dean stared at the picture on the computer and picking up his cellphone, he dialed Kevin's cell.

"Hello," the usually stern voice of Mrs. Tran sounded subdued.

"Mrs. Tran," he said, "It's Dean."

"What do you want?" The severity was back with a vengeance.

"I heard about Kevin."

"This is all your fault," Dean was taken aback, "You and that friend of yours."

"What friend?" he asked.

"The one with the black hair and the long coat. He came here and threatened Kevin. He gave him a new rock to read. Kevin was finally living a normal life."

"Mrs. Tran," Dean said, "Did Cas kill Kevin?"

"They burned his eyes out," she sobbed. "They left some sort of note with his name on it."

"Who are they? Mrs. Tran?" She didn't even notice Dean was speaking.

"I'd just gotten my son back. Now he's gone."

"Mrs. Tran," the harshness of Dean's voice stopped Mrs. Tran in her monologue, "Listen, I'm gonna come over there as soon as I can. Where are you?"

"No," she refused, "We want no more trouble here."

"Mrs. Tran. I'm only coming to help figure this out. We need to stop this so I'm coming over whether you want me to or not." Dean hadn't meant to sound so harsh but he was on his last nerve.

She gave him the address and in a few hours he was there. They'd bought a new smaller house in a small town outside of Colorado Springs and they'd settled in quickly. The house was empty. Mrs. Tran hadn't wanted to be there and had left the keys hidden in a plant outside. Kevin's body lay on the floor where'd been killed. His eyes were completely vaporized from his face and his mouth was open in a permanent expression of horror. Dean gritted his teeth as he knelt by the young boy.

"This is all my fault," he muttered. A rustle of wings made Dean turn. Cas stood staring in silent mourning at him.

"No, Dean," he said, "This ones on me." Dean stood up, cautiously.

"Did you kill him, Cas?" he slipped his hand into the pocket that held his angel blade. Cas' eyes grew wider than usual. Dean nodded. "What happened? Linda told me you threatened him."

"I asked if he was willing to die for his beliefs. I didn't mean it, Dean." His eyes pleaded with Dean to believe him; to understand. Dean nodded again and turned back to Kevin. A piece of paper lay on top of him. Dean picked it up. _Kevin Tran,_ it read.

"Then who did this?" he handed the paper to Cas.

"Most likely someone who doesn't want him to continue translating." Their eyes met in sudden realization.

"Metatron."


	21. Sharp Teeth

"Dean loves pie." Dean glared at Garth from across the table. Garth just shook his head as if to ask "What?" A few days had passed since Kevin had died and Dean had come to find Garth in a hospital after mutilating some cows. The truth of his disappearance had spilled out after his wife, a werewolf like himself, had tried to attack Dean. Now Dean found himself sitting at a table and sharing a very messy lunch with a family or pack of werewolves, one of which was Garth. As he watched the wolves devouring their raw meat he couldn't bring himself to touch his own food. Instead he glared suspiciously at each wolf in turn. Something dangling from a chain around each of their necks caught his eye.

"So, why are a bunch of werewolves wearing silver bullets around their necks?" And so they went into a long story of the significance of their necklaces; how it showed them their fragility and how they used it to remind themselves never to follow the dark path of revenge. Of course Dean didn't believe a single word of it but he tried not to let on his apprehensions too much.

Once they had cleared the table and the women began to clean up, Dean snuck into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and examined it for anything that might confirm his doubts.

"Still hungry?" He stood up to find two brothers towering over him.

"Yeah," he answered, "I was just, uh... seeing if you had any beer."

"The sooner you realize that all is good here," one brother threatened, "The sooner you can go." They began to move in closer, cornering Dean.

"Don't you two have a chew toy or something to go play with?" Dean sassed. They snarled but just then Garth entered the room. He smiled at them as if unaware of the menacing stares they were giving Dean.

"Hey, guys," he greeted, "You mind if I grab a second with Dean, here?" The two brothers flashed Dean one last glare before leaving the room. Dean closed the refrigerator door and joined Garth at the sink. "Why are you being so hard on everyone?" asked the young hunter.

"Because there's no way that all of this is what it looks like," answered Dean, "No way."

"Why not?"

"Come on, man. I know you drank the kool-aid, okay? But come on."

"Look, amigo. I know this is all looks nuts, but I found it. Love and a family? Who cares where that comes from?"

"I do."

"I get it. When I first got here, I couldn't let go, either. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But when it didn't, I had to accept the truth." Dean glared at Garth.

"Well, I got another truth for you," he growled, "We were all left in the dark when you went AWOL. I didn't know whether you were dead or worse. You should have reached out and sent someone a message."

"And said what, Dean?" Garth asked, "That I was a werewolf? I was embarrassed. I thought it best for everyone if I just stayed away. But that doesn't mean that I didn't think about and miss you or Sam or," Garth hesitated as something in Dean's eyes changed, "Or Kevin." His eyebrows drew together as Dean stared out the window.

"They're gone," Dean muttered.

"What?" Dean turned back to Garth.

"Sam and Kevin. They're gone for good," saying it made it even more real. Dean had been trying so hard to convince himself he could find a way to save his brother but as he said those last three words his world came crashing in around him. He struggled to breathe and for a moment he thought he might pass out.

"What happened?" Garth's voice sounded far away.

"When they needed me, I wasn't there," Dean answered, "That's what." Garth nodded. He could tell that wasn't the whole story but he could also tell Dean didn't want to talk about it so he let it hang there.

When Dean finished with Garth, he left the house and drove back to the motel. He meant to go talk to the Sheriff afterwards, but as soon as he stepped into the motel room all his energy drained away. The room felt smaller with only one bed to occupy it. Dean dragged himself inside and fell to his knees beside the bed.

"Cas," he said but he didn't know what else to say. After figuring out who Kevin's killer was, the two of them had worked together to see what they could find on Metatron. A few uneventful days passed and then, after finding out about more angel victims, Cas had disappeared. Dean wondered if it had something to do with the conversation they'd had the day before. Dean had asked Cas to bring Sam back.

"You got your angel mojo back now so why not give it a go."

"You know I can't do that," Cas shook his head.

"Come on, Cas," Dean urged, "You brought me back."

"That was different, Dean," Cas sighed.

"How?"

"This grace it…"

"Isn't yours," Dean finished, "I know, I know. But it can't be that hard, can it?" Dean felt himself grasping at straws. He knew deep down it was no use.

"It will be hard," Cas sounded as if he were trying to explain it to a child, "Not only will I have to revive his soul, which has been separated from his body for a long time now, but I'll have to heal his body, which has decayed almost completely by now." Dean nodded and left the room. The next morning, when he woke up, Cas was gone.

When Dean woke up, he was still on his knees at the side of the bed. The motel windows opened into the night sky. Dean glanced at the clock. 8:00. He got up, packed his bag and dialed Garth on the phone. The answering machine picked up.

"Hey, Garth," Dean said, "Just wanted to let you know I'm skipping town. Everything seems kosher so I'll see you later." He packed up the Impala, hopped in the driver's seat and started back home when some sense of foreboding told him to make his way back to the farm. Maybe it was his hunter's instinct or maybe it was the fact that home felt more unwelcoming than even the small motel room. Whatever the case, Dean drove back to the preacher's home. It seemed eerily quiet and there were lights on in the barn. As Dean crept towards the house, he noticed one of the brothers who had cornered him earlier, prowling around the grounds. Dean slipped off his jacket and flopped it over a fence post, before hiding in some bushes. The brother's head came up as he picked up Dean's scent and he made his way towards Dean's hiding spot. As soon as he came upon the empty jacket, Dean pounced. His hand covered the brother's mouth as he stabbed him with a silver blade. He pulled the blade out and the body fell to the ground with a thump. Dean waited a few minutes for his heart to slow its frightened pounding than crept towards the barn. He put his back to the door as his mind raced with what to do next.

Bang! A gunshot echoed through the barn and as a desperate cry followed Dean rushed into the barn. His gun was aimed at the preachers back when a snarl interrupted him. He was knocked to the ground when the other brother jumped on top of him. His gun flew out of his hand but he quickly recovered. He grabbed his silver blade and stuck it in the boy's heart. He pulled it out and pushed the brother's body off him, then he stood up. The preacher's wife turned, gun in hand and stared at him. For a moment that seemed like hours they stood there, staring at each other, the only sound was the boy's blood dripping from Dean's knife onto the ground. Then, at the same time she pulled the trigger, Dean threw his knife. She cried out as the knife pierced her heart but Dean didn't hear it. All he felt was searing pain. Someone was ripping his shoulder apart. His vision blurred and he felt himself stumble backwards.

"Dean," Garth's voice called from somewhere far away. Dots covered his vision and for a moment Dean wanted to give into them. He wanted to drown in their blackness; to pass out and never wake up. But then the preacher ran in.

"I heard gunshots." He saw Dean wobbling and grabbed him by the arms, "Don't you dare pass out, son," he shook him. Dean nodded and blinked rapidly till his vision cleared. He ran to Garth but stopped as he passed the preacher's wife. He pulled the silver bullet from her neck and examined it.

"Ragnarok," he whispered, "Whose…" He didn't finish his question. He looked up to see the preacher standing over his daughter's body. Then he remembered the gunshot he had heard before he'd charged in here. Slipping the key out of the dead woman's pocket, he unlocked the chains that held Garth to a post and watched as Bess' husband and her father carried her out of the barn.


	22. The Missing Chapter

**Authors Note: So it turns out I wrote an extra chapter and completely forgot to put it in. Now to redo everything just to add another chapter. Yay! :P**

"Dean," Garth sounded surprised to see Dean on the farm's doorstep. Dean smiled and lifted his shoulder as if proud of the sling that held it.

"They let me out of the hospital finally." Garth nodded and gestured for Dean to come inside. "How're you doing?" Tears gathered in the younger hunter's eyes and he shrugged. Dean nodded.

"I should've listened to you," Garth scolded himself, "I screwed up again. First with Kevin, now with…" He didn't look at Dean as he spoke but Dean could see the tears glistening in his eyes.

"Hey," Dean reprimanded, "That was on me. I pulled him in to all this. I should've been there to protect him. Kevin and Sam."

"Well," Garth sighed, "I guess there's enough of that blame to go around." Dean nodded.

"I guess this is…" Dean smiled and headed toward the door.

"Dean?" He stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

"Yeah?" He turned to Garth and smiled.

"Um...I know this may sound a little crazy, but... Maybe I could come back and hunt with you. I mean, with my werewolf mojo, we'd have an advantage." For a moment, Dean wondered if it could work. The two of them against the world but then the stairs creaked, the preacher came downstairs, red eyed and sniffling, and Dean knew where Garth belonged.

"Yeah, look, Garth…"

"No, Dean," Garth shook his head, "I want to make this right. I never should've left you guys, especially Kevin. Kevin was my friend. Friends don't do that."

"You know what else friends don't do." Garth shook his head, clearly confused. "Friends don't let friends grieve alone." Dean gestured with his head towards the kitchen where the preacher sipped a coffee. Garth nodded his head. "Besides," continued Dean, "Somebody's got to live to tell this damn story someday, and who better than you?" Garth smiled shyly. "Now shut up and come here." Dean held out his one good arm. Garth's eyes grew wide.

"You mean it?" he asked.

"Hurry up before I change my mind." With a smile, Garth flung his arms around Dean. Putting his arm around the other man, Dean felt something wet on his shoulder and when they pulled away, Garth's eyes were red. Dean smiled and left.

Back at the bunker, Dean fell on his bed.

"Dean." With a sigh, Dean dragged himself into a sitting position and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Sammy," he looked at his brother with tired eyes, "Please." After all he'd seen and been through, Dean was much too exhausted to fight his brother and Sam must have seen it in his eyes because instead of yelling at him or arguing with him, he sat at the edge of the bed beside his big brother.

"So how's Garth?"

"How did you know about that?"

"I saw it on your laptop…my…the computer." Dean nodded.

"He's a werewolf."

"A what?" Sam smiled. So Dean began the story. As they sat there talking, Dean almost forgot the deaths he'd seen. He almost forgot his brother was a ghost and that all their friends had either abandoned them or were dead. For a moment, it was just the two of them. Two brothers sitting and talking and laughing and, as always, at each other's side.


	23. Vengeful Spirit

Being a ghost was hard. You could never tell where you might end up the next time you flickered into life (or whatever you called it). Once Sam had even woken up in a bathtub as if recovering from a night of heavy drinking. This time though, he woke up in their dungeon. Dean was out hunting some fat sucking monster and Sam had spent most of his time wandering between the bunker and the In-Between. Now here he stood, staring at the chains with all kinds of hoodoo etched into them. Chains that months ago had held a demon in their grasp. And that was when he felt it. He and Dean had worked many hunts with vengeful spirits, they'd even witnessed Bobby change from his usual grumpy self to full on angry ghost. He'd expected it to happen any day. Dean had been in denial, as usual.

"What is there for you to be vengeful of?" he'd asked when Sam brought it up. Well now they had their answer. As Sam stared at the chains, dangling from the ceiling, he felt like there was a firework inside him. It shot up through him straight to his head where it exploded with such force he evaporated before finding himself in the kitchen. His rage blinded him and the explosion in his head blocked out all thought. It was like a cloud of smoke covering his common sense. If he'd had a body, it would be shaking. Even his breaths would've come out in short puffs. He felt as if he was looking through glasses made for someone else. The whole room was blurred but it didn't matter, what mattered was the crash that came as Sam picked up the nearest pot and threw it. The loudness of it filled him with a strange sort of happy rage that could only be kept stoked by more throwing and louder noises. When the kitchen had been completely dumped on the floor he moved to his bedroom where he began to destroy other things. He even set his pillow on fire when he threw a lamp at it. It wasn't until the sprinkler system came on that Sam's rage died. It was as if the water falling from above killed the fiery anger inside him and he flickered out.


	24. Role Reversal

When Dean came back a few days later, Sam was waiting for him looking like a dog who destroyed the house after his master left. He waited with his tail tucked between his legs in the kitchen surrounded by his own mess.

"So today I hunted something called a pishtaco. It was weird. They dine on…" Dean was midstory when he entered the room. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the debris. "Sammy?" he looked up at his brother. Sam looked at his hands. "The hell happened?" He sounded slightly irritated but mostly as if he knew this was coming. And of course he did, they'd both known it would come.

"Vengeance," Sam shrugged. Dean nodded and pushed past Sam towards the refrigerator. Sam watched him in shock as he opened it up.

"So this pishtaco eats fat," Dean continued his story as he put some food in the microwave and grabbed a beer. "There was this brother and sister. Well the sister and her husband ran this resort and the brother worked there. So anyway her brother…"

"Dean."

"What?" Dean flung his arms out, sloshing a little beer over the side of the bottle.

"Say something," Sam pleaded. Dean walked over to the table, sat down and put his head in his hands. He rubbed them over his face before looking back up at his brother.

"What do you want me to say, Sammy? That I should've seen this coming? That I'm sorry I didn't burn you earlier?"

"That you're going to do it now?" Sam offered. Dean shook his head.

"I can't do that." The microwave beeped and Dean got back up. He pulled his burger out and was making his way back to the table when Sam shoved his beer over.

"You're so selfish!" he yelled. Dean stopped, speechless for just one moment. Then he slammed the burger down on the table.

"Selfish?" he yelled back, "I'm selfish? I'm busting my ass trying to bring you back."

"Bullshit!" answered Sam, "You're too busy hunting fish tacos. You haven't done a single thing to bring me back."

"Yes I have."

"And what have you come up with?"

"Well," answered Dean, "All the demons are gone so selling my soul is out of the question."

"You are so full of crap," Sam seethed, "You say you'd do anything to bring me back, right? But why? I mean you obviously don't care what I want. No. You're doing this all for you. You're so scared of being alone that you can't stand the thought of letting me go. I mean you're more than willing to sacrifice yourself as long as you're not the one left behind. But did you ever think about all the people we've hurt because we couldn't lose each other? How many people suffered, died even, because we had to do whatever it took to keep each other alive? If you don't think that's selfish, I don't know what is."

"You think I'm full of crap?" countered Dean, "Everything you just said? That's crap. It's easy to say when you're on the other side. You can just give up, go to wherever it is you go and never have to deal with this shit again. So if anyone's full of crap it's you because I know you, Sam. And I know that if things were reversed, if it had been me dying in that church, you'd be doing the same exact thing."

"No, Dean," Sam said calmly, "I wouldn't. I'd have let you die." Then he disappeared.


	25. thinman: The Empty Chair

Dean glanced in his rearview mirror at the young man in the back seat. He stared out the window the remaining traces of betrayed anger like teardrops gathered in his eyes.

"You doing okay, Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah. I mean," he hesitated glancing up at Dean and then back out the window, "No." Dean nodded thinking that was the end of it but Harry continued; "I mean. You roll with a guy so many years, you start to think he's always gonna be next to you. Like, when you're old and you're drinking on the porch, he'll be in that other rocking chair. And then something happens, and you realize that other chair has gone empty." Dean glanced at the seat beside him; a habit he'd been trying to quit ever since its most frequent occupant died. His little brother; the one person who, despite all the fights they'd had with each other and with the monsters they fought, never left his side. The one person he expected to be by his side until the day he died. Dean had always pictured the two of them going out fighting, together, side by side. Never for one day did he think they'd be apart. But there it was just like Harry had said, the empty chair sitting next to him. Dean swallowed back a new bout of tears.

Sam sat on the remnants of his bed. He stared at the smoldered pillow in front of him as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts. He had said what Dean needed to hear. Right? As he thought back to the conversation they'd had days earlier he tried to convince himself he'd done what was right. His mind flew back to the church months ago. He put himself in Dean's place, standing in the doorway of the church watching his brother writhe in pain as he finished the Trials and closed the gates. As he watched the scene in his head he knew what he would've done. Despite what he said, he knew he would've run at his brother and ripped the paper out of his hand. He'd have finished the damn thing himself if that's what it took. Indeed that's how he'd gotten into this whole mess in the first place. No matter what he said, no matter how much he denied it, Sam knew he'd do anything to keep his brother at his side. He felt guilt bubbling inside him, almost as hot as the rage he'd felt before and during the fight. If haunting and fighting wasn't so exhausting, Sam might've destroyed more of the bunker. He heard the door open and he reappeared in the entrance to greet his brother.

"Dean," he said, unsure of how he'd continue but knowing he needed to apologize. But he didn't get the chance. Dean continued walking down the hallway.

"Dean," he said again. Dean still ignored him. Sam stopped and watched his brother disappear into his room, slamming the door behind him. Sam flinched and as he stood there he realized something. He was a ghost.


	26. Fiery Anger and Flickering Lights

Dean didn't know if he was angrier at Sam or at himself. It had been so much easier when Sam was alive. Then they'd fight all the time without worrying about whether that would be the last thing they said to each other. Now any moment Sam could disappear for good and the last thing he'd remember was his brother brushing past him as if he wasn't there; as if he was…well as if he was a ghost. So Dean wasn't sure whether to blame Sam for starting the fight or himself for finishing it maybe for good and that made Dean mad and when Dean was mad any monster this side of Purgatory better run and hide. Even his best friend felt his wrath like fiery breath through the phone.

"Dean," he said after being greeted with a grunt, "How are you?"

"Fine," the answer was short and clipped. Cas nodded. "Did you call just to check up on me?"

"No," he hesitated. The tension came through the phone and the air felt heavier. Cas could almost see Dean's jaw clench as he gritted his teeth. "I have information on Metatron and…Kevin." Dean didn't think it was possible for him to be any angrier with himself but the reminder of Kevin reminded him of the others he had failed. He flung the pen he'd been holding against the wall and pounded a fist on the table.

"Crap!" Cas flinched and waited for Dean to say more. "You still there, Cas?" he yelled.

"Yes," Cas answered.

"So," Dean prodded, "What's this information?"

"It turns out Metatron didn't kill Kevin," Cas answered, "At least not himself."

"Well then who did?"

"Another angel named Gadreel."

"Gadreel?"

"Yes. He is the angel who let the serpent in the garden."

"Like the Garden of Eden? The snake and the apple?"

"Yes. The fall of humanity."

"So, why does he need Kevin dead?"

"He doesn't. Metatron does."

"So he's working for Metatron?"

"Yes. It seems Metatron is reopening heaven for certain angels."

"Wait. He can do that?"

"I guess." Cas shrugged.

"So what does this have to do with me?"

"Gadreel has been killing off many angels. I thought perhaps you could get him to talk." Dean nodded.

"I wouldn't mind getting my hands on the guy, especially if it gets us closer to Metatron. Where is he?"

"That's the problem. I don't know."

"Well have you got any leads?"

"Uh... Hold on, I'm, uh... Sending you a photo of a symbol that drew the angels in." Dean opened the computer

"Okay," he said staring at the symbol, "Got it."

"It's acting as some kind of angel siren," Cas explained, "I think it's a spell. The ingredients used to create it were very odd... Griffin feathers, bones of a fairy. I've never seen it before." Dean nodded and began searching the internet for something to match the symbol. "What's honorable about a miniature bar?" muttered Cas. Dean glanced at his phone and chuckled inwardly. Finally he found something.

"Okay, I got a match, but it's not from any lore... it's from police records. Looks like that symbol you found was spotted at a handful of crime scenes the last couple days, all multiple homicides."

"And where were these crime scenes?"

"Uh, Utah... Baker, Hill Valley."

"And I'm in Bishop's Falls, Utah."

"Also looks like most of the crime scenes were in industrial areas."

"Looks like Gadreel is heading north." Dean nodded.

"What's the next big town?"

"There are two," Cas answered, "It could be Auburn or Ogden."

"All right, you take Auburn, I'll take Ogden... meet in the middle." Cas nodded and hung up. The lights in his motel room flickered.


	27. Gadreel

"Dean Winchester," the angel growled in his raspy voice, "I've heard a lot about you." He snarled up from the chair Dean had tied him to.

"I've heard a lot about you too. Seems someone didn't know how to do their job right. Keeping Satan out really that hard?" The angel scowled at Dean who smiled. He picked up his angel knife and twirled it like a baton. "Yes Cas told me about your little mistake. But you know what?" Dean didn't wait for him to answer, "I don't really care. What I care about is what you did to Kevin. So here's how it's gonna work. One way or another you're gonna pay for what you did, however if you share Metatron's location this could be a lot less painful for you." Gadreel said nothing. Dean sneered and slashed his knife through the angel's skin. Gadreel gritted his teeth but said nothing only stared at Dean with enraged eyes. The staring contest that lasted for minutes between them was filled with hate and a heated rage. Dean gritted his teeth and pulled back.

"You're pathetic," muttered the angel.

"I'm pathetic?" said Dean, "I'm not the one chained to a chair. Now listen, asshat, you can talk and end this quickly or you can sit and rot in these chains forever."

"All your talk, all your bluster. It's a simple disguise. But you don't fool me. I've heard a lot about you, Dean."

"So you said."

"Do you want to know what I've heard?"

"What?"

"That you're just a scared little boy who's afraid to be on his own because daddy never loved him enough. You are a coward, a sad, clingy, needy..." Dean's breaths grew shorter and heavier. He gritted his teeth so hard they squeaked and his head ached. He punched Gadreel. Blood dripped from the angel's mouth.

"You need to recheck your sources." Gadreel smiled.

"There's more. They say you're a pathetic bottom-feeder who cannot even take care of himself, who would rather drag everyone through the mud than be alone, who would let everyone around him die!" Gadreel was throwing heaping piles of paper onto the fire inside Dean. The flames spit out burning sparks and Dean grabbed his angel blade. He swung around but just as it reached inches from Gadreel's chest, Dean noticed the angel's eyes were closed. No fear. Just calm. He froze.

"No," Gadreel's eyes flew open, "No! Do it! Kill me!" Dean chuckled and drew back his hand.

"You'd like that wouldn't you," he smiled, "You see I think you know so much about me because you're exactly the same. You'd do anything to keep from being alone. You'd rather die than spend another minute in chains. Well you can sit here and rot, you son of a bitch." Dean stormed off to an empty bathroom nearby. He'd tracked Gadreel to Ogden where he'd killed a man that Sam and Dean once worked with on a case. After trapping Metatron's underling in a ring of holy fire, he'd chained him to a chair. Now here he was trying to put out the heat of his rage by splashing cold water on his face. His shaky breaths finally steadied and he was just about to go back when his phone rang.

"Cas," he said, "Where've you been? I've been trying to get a hold of you."

"Hello Dean," the voice that answered wasn't Cas.

"Who is this?"

"Don't you remember me, Dean?" Dean clenched his jaw.

"Metatron," he growled.

"Bingo."

"What've you done to Cas, you son of a bitch?"

"Don't worry. Cas is fine. However, I'm calling about a trade. After all, you have something of mine, and I have something of yours. Bring him here tomorrow, say 6:00-ish? If not, Castiel dies. No comebacks this time."

"Why should I trade with you? You're a lying, cheating douchebag?"

"But I'm also an entity of my word." Dean laughed disbelievingly.

"Fine." His mind raced as he hung up on Metatron. This was his chance to get rid of the Scribe once and for all.


	28. MetaFiction

Dean leaned against the Impala and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally he turned with a sigh and a shake of his head. A flutter of wings stopped him from getting into the car.

"You didn't think I'd come, did you?" Dean whirled around, "I was just waiting for you to set up your little trap for me." Dean froze with his fingers on the lighter. He stared at Metatron who shifted about. "Am I hitting my mark?" Dean continued to stare in confusion. "Well," Metatron held out his arms, "Let's get this started." Dean blinked. Unsure how to respond, he threw the lit lighter at the trap Metatron stood inside. The holy fire blazed in a circle around Metatron who grimaced. He called out in pain. Dean glanced at the empty spot next to himself, a confused expression on his face. Then Metatron laughed. Dean's eyebrows drew together as Metatron rubbed his hands together over the fire. "You bring s'mores? Holy Fire always gives them a delightful minty aftertaste," Dean didn't answer just gawked at him with furrowed brow. Metatron shrugged. "Make a wish," with one long breath he blew out the fire surrounding him. As the last flame flickered out, Dean lunged at Metatron, angel blade at the ready. "No thanks!" Metatron yelled and flung Dean against the Impala. He walked over to the back of Dean's car and opened the trunk. He erased the angel warding with a flick of his hand and pulled out Gadreel. The sound of an engine drew closer and another car pulled up. Several angels exited and opened the door for Cas to step out. Dean was relieved to see his friend unharmed but he tried not to show it. Instead he shot an angry glare from one angel to another, lingering his fiery gaze on Cas. "Well," said Metatron, "A deal is a deal." Dean turned his glare back to Metatron.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," Metatron shrugged, "Because you and your little ghost brother and your fine, feathered friend and all those secrets you've got locked away in your bunker can't stop me. But I am gonna enjoy watching you try. It's gonna be a hell of a show. I'll see you around, Castiel. Never forget I gave you a chance." Cas hesitantly joined Dean as Metatron and his minions drove away.

It was night by the time they reached the motel Cas had been staying in. He got out and stood by the car, staring at his door. Dean waited a few minutes for him to go inside. When he didn't move, Dean sighed and got out. He slammed the door and Cas jumped.

"What the hell's going on, Cas?" he asked.

"Metatron's trying to play God."

"Play God?" Dean laughed, "He erased angel warding. He friggin' blew out Holy Fire. He is God.

"He's powering up with the angel tablet," Cas explained.

"How the hell are we supposed to stop this guy?" Cas shrugged. Dean sighed and placed his arms on the Impala hanging his head between them. "Alright," he said, "What if there is a stairway to Heaven? You find it and get a drop on the guy."

"Yeah," Cas answered, "I guess." Dean nodded. "Hey Dean. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Cas. Why?"

"You just…Are you angry with me?" Dean sighed and pressed his head on his car. He tried to absorb the coolness of the metal and calm the sparks within.

"Yes, Cas," he answered, "I am angry with you."

"Dean…" Cas flinched as Dean hit the side of the car and looked up at him with eyes that almost glowed red.

"No, Cas," Dean interrupted, "Don't try to explain yourself. Don't tell me it's what's for the best. Because frankly I'm sick of it. Everyone thinks they know what's best for me but nobody does. Do you really think that it's for the best abandoning me? Abandoning Sam?"

"I never abandoned Sam."

"Not bringing him back. Leaving him in that church."

"You told me that wasn't my fault."

"No? Well I know one thing. If you hadn't pulled me away I'd have been there. I could've stopped him, Cas."

"He did what he had to do."

"And that's what matters most to you angels, isn't it? Every human is a means to an end. Even if the whole earth died out, as long as it's what's best then who friggin' cares. Well, I don't give a rat's ass about what's best or what has to be done. You know what I care about? People, Cas. Because I can depend on people. Because people never abandon me." Cas nodded and Dean waited for him to speak. A few minutes passed but he stayed silent. Finally Dean sighed and shook his head. "If you hear anything, you drop a dime, kay?" Cas nodded and headed towards his room. With a slam of the door and a roar of the engine, Dean took off.


	29. Waiting

Sam knew the day was coming soon. Well that and he'd been trying to help it along. He'd done his best to stay invisible and to keep quiet. He'd kept as far away from the dungeon as possible and spent most of his time wandering the In-Between. Even in the times when he might have been visible, Dean ignored him. He knew Dean was angry at him for what he'd said the other day and he wished he could apologize but the one time he had tried, Dean hadn't responded. So now all Sam could do was hope; hope that maybe his brother's anger would drive him to finish it. Maybe what he'd said would hit home. So he watched. And he waited.

Dean knew the day was coming soon. He hadn't seen Sam in forever and a part of him had already given up. He'd done a little bit of research inside the Men of Letters' library but Sam was right most of his time was spent hunting monsters or looking for Metatron. He knew that he was just running away. That if he did sit down to do research he'd find a lot of empty spaces and dead end roads. Just the thought of sifting through stacks of useless information seemed hopeless and pointless to Dean. So he ignored it. He ran away. He found something else to keep him busy. But time was like a ghost, constantly haunting him. Watching. Waiting.


	30. Alex Annie Alexis Ann

Blood covered every inch of Dean's body. Not his own blood fortunately, although if it had been Dean wouldn't have noticed. He barely felt pain. His whole body felt numb aside from the raging heat that filled his whole body. His vision was clouded by a blood red fog. Even his movements felt controlled by someone outside of himself. As if his anger had manifested itself as a whole different being, a whole new Dean. The vampires inside the house cowered in fear as heads rolled and bodies dropped behind Dean's wake. But Dean wasn't mad at them, he barely noticed their existence. He wasn't even mad at Jody for getting mixed up in all this. He was afraid and that made him angry. His mind was back at the bunker, searching through lost memories. His own forgetfulness haunted him more than the ghost of his little brother wandering the empty halls. He'd already begun to forget how Sam liked his salad, or the name of his friend from high school whose bones they'd burned before finding out he wasn't the actual ghost. He'd even forgotten the clothes Sam had worn the day he died. This stuff had never seemed important before but as Dean lost his grip on those memories, he worried about what else he might forget. And that made him angry. They burst from the cabin into the fresh air and Dean's eyes surveyed the area as if searching out new pray. A hand fell on his back and he turned to look into Jody's worried eyes.

"Dean stop." His hand dropped.


	31. Moving On?

"So you're finally moving on, huh?" Dean gestured with his head back to the abandoned shack where they were staying.

"Not moving on," Jody put her hands on her hips, "Letting go." She smiled at him from behind the bruises on her face. They'd just gotten out of a fight with some vampires over a young girl who now slept inside that shack. After saving her from a family that tried to make her a monster, Jody had adopted the girl as her own.

"But you're replacing your son, aren't you?"

"She isn't here to replace anyone." Dean nodded but it was clear he didn't completely understand. "Dean," Jody said, "I know how you feel. It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," he said too quickly, "What would I be afraid of?"

"Forgetting." Dean stiffened; it was as if she could read his mind. "You've started forgetting already. Now you're afraid you'll lose everything." Dean shook his head but couldn't find the strength to deny it. "I remember feeling the same way about Owen. I've already forgotten what his favorite color was, or what cereal he liked the best, I've even started to forget how it felt to hold him when we'd read a bedtime story." Tears gathered in Jody's eyes. "But that doesn't mean I've forgotten everything. I remember the color of his eyes, his smile, his favorite story. Those are the things that I hold onto, that I'll never forget. But I have enough room in my heart for both Annie and those memories. You and Sam, you guys…you were so close. Even if he's gone forever, you'll still have that." Dean shook his head involuntarily as if every fiber of his being tried to deny the truth.

"But without Sam I'm…" he kept himself from saying nothing, "I'm all alone."

"You're not nothing," she said, reading his mind again. She reached her hand out and touched him gently on the arm, "And you're not alone. You always have me." Her hand slipped away. "Listen Dean. If you wanna come stay with me for a couple of days, I'm totally fine with it." Dean stared at the cabin and made his teeth a fence to keep out the oncoming tears. He shook his head.

"There's something I have to do."


	32. Letting Go

As Dean drove away and towards the bunker millions of thoughts ran through his head, each with a different person's voice.

"Look after your brother," his dad commanded.

"Maybe the only way to get out," said Charlie between sobs, "Is to die."

"Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?" yelled Bobby, "They're supposed to make you miserable. That's why they're family." Even Garth was there doing his best Bobby impersonation;

"Don't be an idjit." With all these voices in Dean's head, it was as if he didn't know which one was his, as if he were nobody and everybody at the same time. What would Dean say to this? Who was Dean? Dean's mind took him back to a farmhouse with a gruff talking man with kind eyes and a young woman with photography dreams and an inherited diner. Those happy memories were interrupted as his mind flew like an airplane to a much further time; a time when a young boy stared down with a smile at his baby brother. A young boy who puffed out his chest proudly and whispered the new child's name.

"Sammy."

"Take care of Sammy." That's what he would say; the boy who carried his little brother through a blazing fire and out of the house. The same boy who stared out a window and into a car with a little boy hanging out the window, waving his toy airplane in the night air. The boy who no matter what chose his younger brother over all his dreams. That's what Dean would say.

"Take care of Sammy." That's who Dean was. A man who chose his brother no matter how much it hurt, how much it cost him. And that's what he was going to do. Even now, even when it hurt to even think it, even if he wasn't sure what was best. That's what he was going to do.

"Take care of Sammy." His mind was set. He pulled into the bunker garage a determined look in his eye. He strode confidently down the bunker's hallways and didn't stop until he reached the library. He saw Sam's computer and froze. His resolve, which only moments before had been so firm, wavered and tears filled his eyes.

"This is it, Sammy," Dean choked through the lump in his throat, "This is me letting go." The only sound in answer was the pounding of Dean's own heart. Then the lights flickered.

There was so much that needed to be said. So much to cover how sorry Sam was and how much he loved him and how if he could he'd do it differently and yet how he wouldn't change things for the world. But there was no way to say it all so Sam just stood and stared at his brother. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch him but he worried. He worried that if he made any sudden moves or even spoke, Dean might change his mind and things would go back to the way they were with him wandering between the bunker and the Other Place and Dean ignoring him and running away. But as he stood there in agonizing silence, Dean turned and froze. It seemed Sam was visible after all. He smiled. He tried to speak. He focused all his energy on staying tangible. He used all his concentration to approach his brother. Dean stood still as a statue as his younger brother threw his arms around him. When the tension melted, Dean placed his hand on his brother's back. Sam pulled away. He wanted, needed, to say something, anything, everything. There was so much to be said and yet, as Sam looked into his brother's eyes, he realized it had all been said already. Not so much in words, rarely in words, but it had been said. So Sam smiled. Then he disappeared.

Dean stared at the empty spot where Sam had stood moments ago. For just a moment he hesitated. He thought about running to his room and locking himself away until someone came to get him or he rotted away to nothing. But he'd already failed Sam before. Years ago he'd made the same promise to himself and to his brother that he would let Sam go, let him be free of the horrible life they'd been forced to live. And then he'd broken his promise. After four years he found himself at Stanford, pulling Sam back in. But not this time. This time he would do what was best for his brother. He wouldn't fail him. He'd give him the freedom he'd craved for so long.

"Take care of Sammy," young Dean reminded him. So doing his best to block out the crazy ramblings of his mind, he grabbed his box of matches and his satchel full of ghost destroying supplies and headed out the door.

Digging the grave was easy, he'd done it a million times before so it took little to no thought at all. Even as he hit bone and climbed out, he stayed calm and collected. The body had almost completely decomposed by now so that made it a lot easier, almost like working another job rather than finishing off his little brother. It wasn't until he threw the burning matches in that his racing thoughts began again, almost as if a key turned in the ignition of his brain and started everything up again. As he watched the flames devour the body of his little brother it hit him like a semi almost knocking him to the ground; he was giving up. He would never see his brother again.


	33. The Following Week

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can."

"Take care of your brother, you idjit."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm not gonna let him die alone." Millions of ghosts haunted the bunker hallways. It was as if Sam had been replaced by the ghosts of a million memories both good and bad. Dean threw back another glass of alcohol. He'd lost count of how many drinks he had and they'd begun to blend into one to the point where he didn't even know whether he was drinking beer or whiskey or some of the fine scotch he'd found amidst the books and other Men of Letters' belongings. He hadn't left the house in days. Hunting seemed meaningless to him now without someone to fight alongside him. Even the simple acts of sleeping and eating seemed pointless. Life itself felt futile and empty. When he wasn't drinking, he wandered the halls of the bunker most often finding himself sitting on his bed staring at the guns on the walls or in the library staring at Sam's laptop. He avoided Sam's room as if the stench of death still lingered there. As if an angry spirit haunted it waiting to yell at him, to tell him how much he'd screwed up. Dean didn't remember anything. Not the taste of the drinks he shot down his throat every few minutes, nor the pictures on the laptop he stared at. He felt nothing, no anger, no guilt, no pain. He himself had become a ghost. Filled with so many memories of days past that he no longer lived in the present. Days passed this way.

"I told you not to let him out of your sight!" The voices that appeared most often in Dean's head were those of his dad and Bobby. So many times they'd told him to look out for Sam. Now he'd failed him. Dean stared at the guns on the wall. Although his mind didn't clearly process his thoughts, a small part of him wondered which one would do it fastest.

"Promise me you won't kill yourself," it was as if Sam was right there. Dean's head whipped around but the chill on the back of his neck was just his imagination and the whisper in his ear was just another memory.

"You and me. We're all that's left. If we're gonna see this through to the end, we're gonna do it together," Sam smiled. Or his memory did.

"But we're not together, Sammy," Dean whispered. Sam continued to smile.

"Dean," he whispered.

"Dean," he was yelling now and his voice sounded rougher than usual.

"Dean!" Dean's eyes flew open and he looked up into Cas' blurry face. His back ached and he realized he'd been laying on the floor. He opened his mouth to say something and bile came spewing out. He rolled to his side as he choked out more puke onto Cas' shoes and pants. Cas pulled away. Dean rolled back over onto his back and groaned.

"Dean," Cas said. His voice sounded far away, "When was the last time you ate?" Dean laughed.

"Screw you, Cas," he said or tried to say. All that came out was a garbled mumble and more puke. His empty stomach hurt and his throat felt soar. He fumbled for his footing and slipped on the floor before finally standing up. He wobbled a bit and then fell face first. If Cas hadn't caught him he would've hit the floor. Grunting, Cas pushed him back onto his bed.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"You o wha, Cas?" Dean muttered, "You're ot m' mother." He giggled. Cas shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm getting you something to eat."

"I'm no-ungry," Dean tried to yell. Cas nodded and left the room. When he came back a few minutes later he held a salad and a glass of water. Dean snarled and did his best to sit up. He slouched against the head board of his bed and reached out for the salad. For a moment, he just stared at it sitting in his lap, glaring at him with stupid green leaves and other kinds of weird vegetables.

"Eat, Dean," ordered Cas. He looked about ready to grab the fork and feed Dean himself so Dean quickly stabbed the lettuce and stuffed it in his mouth. Usually Dean might have spit it out or made some kind of comment on how lettuce belonged on a cheeseburger and not as its own dish. But even his taste buds were numb now. Even the Italian dressing Cas had poured on tasted bland. He started to push it away but Cas shoved it right back.

"Finish," he said. Dean raised his eyebrows but went ahead and finished it. Immediately after it came right back up and Cas made him another bowl. Dean threw that up too. Cas had just finished making a third bowl when Dean fell asleep.

When Dean woke, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Dark colors swirled around him like a painting that has been accidentally dropped into a puddle of water. It took many rapid blinks for everything to settle. He turned to his side and nearly jumped out of his skin. Cas sat on a chair right next to his bed, staring at him with intense blue eyes. Dean had a snarky comment ready on his tongue when it started. At first it was a small ringing in his ears. Slowly it grew to a high pitched scream not unlike the time he'd heard Cas' real voice. His whole head hurt. Someone was pulling his brains apart from the inside and even keeping his eyes opened pained him. He squeezed them shut. His stomach flipped in agonizing somersaults and he turned to the side and puked. Cas swiftly moved his legs out of the way and maneuvered a trash can under Dean's head. Having not eaten in days, Dean felt like he might as well be puking his guts out now. His stomach was empty except for gallons of alcohol and…

Dean stared at the empty pill bottles covered in puke inside the trash can. He prayed Cas hadn't noticed those or the pills scattered across his nightstand. He looked up and their eyes met. The concern he saw told him everything. He groaned and rolled back over onto his back. Closing his eyes, he waited for the barrage of accusations he would've gotten from Sammy.

"How long has it been since you burned his bones?" Cas' voice was so quiet Dean almost didn't hear the question.

"That obvious?"

"Sam would never have let you get like this." Dean winced. He couldn't say whether it hurt more to hear his brother's name or to think of how disappointed Sam would be if he saw his big brother now. Dean closed his eyes.

When he reopened them he stared at the ceiling for a moment. His head still hurt beyond words and his eyeballs pulsed as if threatening to fall out.

"What day is it?" He turned to where Cas was sitting. The chair was empty. Dean's heart began to pound rapidly. The walls closed in around him and Dean could physically feel his world crashing in on him. He felt dizzy.

"Cas?" he whispered. His voice shook. He clenched his teeth against the oncoming tears which only caused his head to ache even more. When Cas appeared in the doorway, Dean gasped in relief. The weight on his chest flew away as quickly as it had come and the room regained its normal size. Cas' eyebrows furrowed as he came into the room. He carried a coffee mug in one hand and a plate of toast in another. "Alright, some coffee," Dean sat up as best he could.

"Tea," Cas corrected.

"What?" Dean laughed, "Where'd you get that?"

"I bought it while you were sleeping."

"You were sitting here the whole time."

"Not the second time." Dean hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep again. Time had meant nothing to Dean in the days following Sam's burning. Day melted into night merged into day. Dean had made himself a ghost wandering in and out of time, haunting the bunker with the frigid air that surrounded him. Cas thrust the mug into his hand and Dean took a hesitant sip.

"It's hot!" he said, almost spitting it out. Cas grabbed it out of his hands.

"Let it cool." He pushed the plate of peanut butter toast onto Dean's lap. "Eat." Dean began to cram it down his throat and into his growling stomach. Cas grabbed his arm. "Slowly." Dean took a small bite. It took only a few minutes for it to come back up. When he'd finished hurling all over his bed, Dean groaned and held his head in his hands. His head still felt torn apart with a pounding intensity. Cas sighed. "I'll make more," he said.

"What's the use?" Dean said. Cas nodded and sat back in the chair. Dean rubbed his palms over his face and pulled his fingers through his hair so tightly he might've pulled his scalp off. With his head throbbing now more than ever and the room spinning around him, Dean threw his hands in the air and nearly tumbled off the bed. "What do you want, Cas?" Cas looked up at him with a blank look. "You didn't come here just to take care of me, did you?" Cas looked back down at his hands.

"The truth is I need your help," he looked back up at Dean, "But if you're not up for it…"

"Just tell me what it is!" Dean had two levels of pain. With the first came snarky comments and grimacing smirks. This kind, however, called for angry commands and a very short temper. This pain would've earned him a warning look from his brother followed by a scolding "Dean." All it earned him now was wide eyes and a hurried response.

"We have a prisoner…"

"We?" Dean interrupted.

"My army."

"You have an army?"

"Do you want to know why I'm here or not?" Cas' sudden outburst almost threw Dean off his game. Almost.

"Let me guess," he went on, still not letting Cas finish, "You got one of Metatron's cronies in captivity and, since you don't like to deal with the rough stuff, you want me to be your goon."

"To put it indelicately," Cas muttered to his hands before speaking more clearly to Dean, "If you don't want to…"

"Who says I don't want to do it?" The eagerness in his voice made even Dean nervous but he couldn't help it. He would do anything to get out of this graveyard of ghostly memories and accusatory spirits.


	34. Paradise Lost

Dean let Cas drive his own car to the angels' headquarters. As they drove up, he couldn't help missing the comfort and familiarity of the Impala but his stomach still hadn't settled and he hadn't wanted to mess up her beautiful seats with his bile. Cas tried to get him to eat some bread as they drove up but each piece he ate just came right back up so eventually they both gave up. The angels had made their headquarters in an old abandoned warehouse. At least that's how it appeared from the outside. Inside, however, looked like a scene out of Mission Impossible or some other spy movie. Angels swarmed the place which was covered in computer screens; big ones on the wall, 3D ones sitting on tables, row upon row of smaller one person ones. The bright lights glaring at them did nothing to help Dean's throbbing head. They glared like angry spotlights straight into his eyes and hot tears pricked his eyelids. His brain felt like a wrecking ball waiting to burst through his forehead. He hoped it would soon, at least then he might have some relief. The angel that had answered the door for them led them through the crowd and into a smaller room that looked like an office for whoever was in charge. A woman stood at the desk with her back to the door. When they entered she turned around and approached them. She eagerly dismissed the angel that had led them here then turned to Cas, completely ignoring Dean.

"Commander," she said.

"Commander?" Dean repeated. Two pairs of eyes shot irritated glances his way. He threw up his hands and focused on quieting the ringing in his ears.

"Where have you been?" Cas' subordinate asked, "You've been gone for days."

"I had some things that needed taking care of." Although Dean could barely see beyond the blinding lights and stinging tears, he could feel the other angel's accusing blue eyes on him.

"Don't you think there are more important things to focus on?"

"Than what, Hannah?" Cas glared at her, challenging her to question him. She glared back but didn't reply. Instead she brought up the other elephant in the room. She gestured with her head to Dean.

"What is he doing here?" She surveyed him and he could tell she was wondering how much help he could really be in his condition.

"He's here to take care of the prisoner." She turned shocked eyes to Cas.

"He's going to get him to talk?"

"Do you know who this is?" asked Cas, "This is Dean Winchester."

"Yeah," inserted Dean. She glared at him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. She turned back to Cas, the doubt clear in her eyes. Cas didn't seem to notice.

"Dean?" he said. Dean waved him off. With a huff, Hannah advanced to Dean and placed two fingers on his forehead. Suddenly the pain was gone. He blinked the remaining tears from his eyes and looked up. The lights shone at their normal brilliance and each color found its place. His head felt clearer than it had in days. His stomach rumbled.

"I'm hungry," he smiled.

"Thank you, Hannah," said Cas. She turned to him with furious blue eyes.

"Now can we focus?" Without waiting for a reply, she left the room.

Dean crammed another burger into his mouth as Cas led him down a rare empty hallway at Angel HQ as Dean had dubbed it. The room they entered was sparsely furnished with nothing but a very uncomfortable looking chair containing the prisoner sitting in the center. Cas left as soon as Dean pulled out his angel blade but he was stopped by Hannah before he could reach the end of the hallway. Dean listened in as they spoke.

"You're leaving him in there alone?" Hannah accused.

"I have more important things to do than watch him," The sarcasm in Cas' voice made even Dean wince.

"You can't expect him to do this himself." Cas sighed.

"Alright," he replied, "You can watch him then."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Hannah sighed in return and Dean heard her come stomping down the hallway and into the room.

"You my babysitter?" Dean teased. She glared at him in reply. "Alright," Dean shrugged, "Let's get started then."

"You're wasting your time," stated the prisoner, "I have nothing to say." Dean nodded and began circling the chair.

"I disagree," he chuckled. Hannah sighed and shifted from one foot to the next, her arms crossed over her chest.

"There's no use torturing me," boasted the prisoner, "I am a trained commando. It won't work."

"Wow," smirked Dean, "Well, you just asked me to dance." He put his hand on the chair and leaned inches away from the man's face. He drew his angel blade and was just about to thrust it through the chest of the angel.

"Stop!" Hannah stepped forward, reaching toward Dean. He pulled back a little until he noticed the smug smile on the prisoner's face. Again, he readied himself to stab the arrogant bastard but Hannah placed a hand on his arm. He whipped around to face her and she stepped back as he almost stabbed her with his readied blade.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

"I was trying to stab the conceited son of a bitch." Dean threw his arms out.

"That's not what you're supposed to be doing."

"So?" he asked, "He's getting on my nerves." Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

"You're really the only one he could find?"

"You asked me to do something and that's what I'm doing."

"No," she said as if speaking to a small child, " _Castiel_ asked you to get some information. Not to kill anyone."

"Trouble in paradise?" asked the prisoner still smiling smugly. "Oh wait. I forgot, Paradise is closed. You can't get in."

"Shut up, idiot," Dean said.

"I'm not the idiot," laughed the prisoner, "Humans are the idiots." Then Dean had an idea. The little voice in his head, the logical part of him, Sam's voice, spoke. It told him what to do. He smiled, a smile to match the smug look on the prisoner's face.

"You know what, Hannah?"

"What?" her expression told him she didn't care. He smiled.

"I don't think this guy knows anything," his eyes pleaded with her to play along. She looked confused. "He was probably just pretending at the bar. Most likely, he's a nobody. I mean, do the math. Ezra here is one of Metatron's elite posse? Really? One of Metatron's most trusted is, uh - is hanging out at bars, blabbing about the boss. Does that make any sense?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I'm talking about this loser. I mean if he was a key player, he'd be up in heaven with Metatron where all the action is." Her expression of irritated confusion didn't waver and Dean did his best not to just stomp out of the room and walk, drive, take the bus back to the bunker.

"What if I'm a decoy?" the prisoner finally responded. Dean turned, doing his best to hide a satisfied smirk. His plan was working. "Or in deep cover?"

"You probably haven't even been to heaven since the fall."

"Yes, I have!" His hackles were rising.

"Dude, the gates are sealed. No one gets in," Dean felt his smile drop from his face. His heart sunk into his stomach. He felt more bile creeping up his throat. No one gets in. Not angels. Not humans. No one. So where does a soul go with both heaven and hell closed and nothing to tie it to earth? Where was his little brother?

"If there was a doorway on earth the angels would've sensed it." Dean hadn't heard a word the prisoner spoke but it had rendered a response from Hannah who had stepped in when Dean faltered. "You can't hide something like that."

"You can if it moves around from place to place," said the prisoner, "If it's wherever the boss wants it to be."

"Who told you about this portal?" asked Hannah.

"Metatron," he said the name as if he were God himself. Maybe he was. "He showed it to me." Dean's senses started to come back. The dizziness he felt began to fade. He clutched the cold angel blade to his skin as if to prove to himself he were still alive. He even let it cut his hand a bit as if his own blood were evidence of his existence.

"He showed you?"

"That's all I'm going to say." Dean smiled and laughed. The Sammy part of him was poking him. "Wake up, Dean. Do your job."

"So you're a fan," he finally spoke, "Just because you like someone doesn't mean you know them."

"Or they know you exist," Hannah chimed in. Dean smiled at her. "Now you're getting it," his eyes said.

"That's cold," he said out loud. She smiled and shrugged proudly.

"I was interviewed personally by Metatron for a key post."

"Yeah? Oh, wow. Well, then - then maybe you can tell me why you weren't at your key post and you were hanging down here instead."

"He got passed over," Hannah realized. The smug smile vanished from the prisoner's face. His eyes blazed angry fire.

"I-I was a finalist."

"Oh, man," Dean sighed, "To get so close and then get kicked downstairs. It sucks to be you."

"Hardly anybody was chosen! And ground forces is still a very important assignment. It was an honor to have even been considered for the squad."

"What 'squad'?" asked Hannah, "There is no squad."

"Yeah," he replied, "Says you. It's a highly guarded secret."

"Wait a second," interrupted Dean, "Just, please, uh... Clarify this for me. You desperately wanted this job, but you didn't know what it was?"

"Well, until you were chosen, the exact nature of the mission was kept a secret."

"Wow."

"And...Hardly anyone was chosen."

"Thank you," said Hannah, snarkily, "You've been a lot of help." Dean smiled and they left the room. "I will say, you did pretty good in there," Hannah complimented.

"Thanks," Dean answered, "You weren't too bad yourself. I suppose we should report to the commander now." Cas wasn't in his office and by the time he got back from wherever he'd disappeared to, the prisoner was dead.


	35. Stairway to Heaven

A few days passed and Cas didn't let Dean out of his sight. Any moment he was gone, was a moment another angel was forced to watch the headstrong, grumpy older Winchester. Dean however was too preoccupied to notice. He couldn't help thinking about all those dead people stuck between Heaven and Earth with nowhere to go. He worried as he so often did when his little brother was involved. Was Sam in pain? Was he happy? Bored? Or had he just vanished leaving only a room in the bunker as verification of his existence? Cas detected Dean's unusually disturbed and distracted manners and did his best to put him back on track. He even dragged him along when some sort of angel eruption happened at a Colonel Scoops ice cream shop. Dean stared blankly at the empty eye sockets of the victim. Cas did his best to focus on the case but his eyes kept darting to Dean. He wondered what was on the other man's mind.

"Cas," it seemed he was about to figure it out. He stood up and their eyes met. "What happens to all the souls now that Heaven's closed up?" Cas stared at Dean for a moment unsure how to respond. He hadn't even thought about the souls. He'd been so focused on the lost angels wandering earth but never the souls. Where were they now? Where was Sam now?

"I don't know," he finally answered. Dean nodded.

"That's what I thought." He turned back to the body and Cas turned back to the crime scene. He did his best to get back to work but he couldn't take his mind off Dean's question.

When they finally finished examining everything, Cas dragged Dean back to HQ where Hannah informed them of an angel gone missing.

"Do you think he's the mole? The one who killed the prisoner?" asked Dean, finally a bit interested in something.

"Well, who else?" asked Hannah, "We searched the grounds but he's vanished."

"What was his vessel's name?" Dean asked sitting down at an empty computer. Cas glanced from Hannah to Dean and back again, confused with his friend's sudden mood change. Hannah didn't seem to have any answers except for the ones Dean was looking for.

"Sean Flynn from Omaha." As Dean searched for anything on Sean or his possessing angel, another angel pulled up a video from a phone of one of the people that had been in the explosion at the ice cream shop.

Dean stood up and joined the angels gathered around the screen to watch. The video showed an angel approach a booth and rip open his shirt. On his chest was carved some sort of sigil which, when he stabbed himself, exploded in bright light blowing the whole place to bits. As he pointed the angel blade toward his chest he spoke;

"I do this for Castiel!" Then with a final explosion, the video ended.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked. His lethargic attitude had quickly changed after Cas had been unable to answer his question. It seemed there was no use worrying about Sam so his next option was to find something else to occupy his mind. This seemed like a pretty good option. It at least gave him a reason to be pissed at Cas.

"I don't know," Cas said, "I didn't… I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents. I'm gonna be sick."

"Then why did he say your name?"

"I don't know," Cas said again. Dean nodded, his anger clear on his face. He felt like punching something.

"Wait," said Hannah interrupting Dean before he got violent, "Roll it back. And…stop! That's an angel." She pointed to a young girl sitting at a booth that the murderer stood next to. "She's one of Metatron's."

"So this was some kind of hit?" Dean turned back to Cas.

"I," he hesitated, "I don't know." Dean slammed his hand on the table.

"Stop saying you don't know!" he yelled. Several angels, including Cas, flinched. Cas knew what this was really about. This wasn't about the murderous angels or the explosions, this was about Sam.

"You can't think I would allow something like this," he couldn't help Dean but at a time like this he needed his friend's trust, answers or no.

"Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try. But what you got here, this is a…a freakin' cult."

"Dean," his voice pleaded with Dean to trust him, to understand. But Dean wouldn't listen. He didn't hear the pleading in Cas' voice. He heard the uncertainty and the questions. The "I don't knows," and the "I wish I could help." But if he couldn't help, if he didn't know, then what else was he useful for. Dean hated feeling useless, he hated having useless friends and it made him angry. Cas was the victim of that anger this time

"And the last time you had this kind of juice," Dean yelled, "You did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time!" Cas looked down at his hands, his shame rendered him speechless, unable to defend himself against Dean's attack.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry?" Dean threw his hands in the air, "Well I guess that solves that. If you're sorry that makes everything better. Sorry doesn't erase the past, Cas. Sorry won't bring Sam back!" Cas looked up at Dean with pity in his bright blue eyes. This wasn't about him anymore, if it ever had been. As always Dean was angrier with himself. For not having all the answers, for failing Sam.

"Is this really important right now?" interrupted Hannah. Dean spun to face her, something like a growl rumbled from his throat. She, however, did not seemed fazed by his surly attitude or irate eyes. "I hate to interrupt but we have more important things to focus on. So unless you want to be more helpful, why don't you go sit in the office with one of your babysitters and let us deal with this?"

"My what?" Dean glanced from Cas to Hannah and back again. Cas just shook his head. "Alright," Dean sighed. He leaned in towards the screen. "Did you know this angel?"

"Yes," answered Cas, "His name was Oren. He was a new recruit. He worked in community outreach."

"And what does that mean?"

"Some of my troops are stationed at a local hospital," explained Cas, "They help where they can. Minor miracles. It's nothing that would attract attention."

"So, what was he doing in that video, with the stabbing?"

"The Enochian runes that were carved in his chest, I...I think that they were meant to focus energy. When he stabbed himself, it unleashed all that power."

"So, what about the girl?" asked Dean, "What happened to her?"

"If she was the target," answered Cas, "If the blast was focused on her, then more likely than not, she…she was atomized. So, what do we do now?"

"You don't do jack," said Dean, "I will head to the hospital and see if I can find anyone who was friends with this…walking nuke."

"Hold on," said Cas, "These are my people. I can help." _No you can't!_ Dean wanted to yell. _You can't help anyone. Not me. Not Sam._

"Well, that's sort of the problem," said Dean out loud, "I mean, the Manson girls aren't gonna give us a straight answer with Charlie in the room, so just hang back."

"Sir," said Hannah sitting at the computer Dean had left earlier, "It seems the human found more on Josiah."

"I did?" said Dean. He joined Cas and Hannah at the computer.

"It seems he left a trail in Colorado." Cas turned to Dean.

"This is how I can help," he said eagerly, "I can follow Josiah's trail to Colorado."

"Alright," said Dean, "You go see what the dude's up to and I'll go to the hospital." Cas nodded and leaned down next to Hannah.

"Keep an eye on him," he whispered. He stood up and glared at Dean who snarled right back.


	36. Last Chance

Dean turned the chair around and sat down. On the other side of the table in front of him sat Tessa, a reaper he'd met years ago and who he'd caught just now as she was about to blow up a theater. According to another angel that Dean had been ordered to question, Tessa and Oren and a few others had been working together.

"Okay," said Dean, "Well, let's start with an easy one. Who are you working for?"

"Castiel," she answered.

"Liar," accused Hannah. She had accompanied Dean on this interrogation after the first angel he'd questioned accused him of threatening her. It wasn't exactly a false accusation. Now he had been stripped of his weapon and his chance to get Sam back. Yes, it was true, he had thought that by having a reaper in his hands he could find a way to bring his brother back but with Hannah in the room there was no chance of that.

"People like you," Tessa glared at Hannah, "They never understand. Sacrifices have to be made."

"So you go after one of the bad guys," Dean asked, "And if a few humans get microwaved, no big deal, right?"

"In the grand scheme, they don't matter." Dean clenched his teeth so hard they squeaked. It was the same with every angel, humans didn't matter, the ends justified the means. Well he was tired of being an ends to a means. He was tired of Sam being an ends to a means.

"Oh, Tessa," he sighed, "You are so wrong."

"When Castiel came to me and told me what I had to do, he said I was chosen because I was strong. Others..." she shot a glance at Hannah, "They couldn't handle this. They're too weak." Hannah flew at her and slammed her hands down on the table. Her face was inches from Tessa's and Dean could feel the heat of her growl. He grabbed Hannah and pushed her out of the room. As he did, he slipped the blade she'd taken from him out of her pocket. He gave her a quick lecture and went back in the room alone.

"Listen, Tessa," Dean said as he walked back into the room. She had her head in her hands.

"I can't take the screaming," she whispered. Dean stopped unsure how to respond. She stood up and pressed her fingers to her forehead as if trying to rub away a headache.

"Who's screaming?" Dean said. He gripped the blade tightly under his sleeve.

"All of them," she answered, "The lost souls. The ones that can't get into heaven now that it's been boarded up. I hear them. They are so confused. They're in so much pain. All I want to do is help them. It's what I do. It's my job. But I can't. So I suffered until death, nothingness. Suddenly, it didn't seem so bad. It seemed quiet." Dean could barely breath. He heard the screaming now. Sam cried out to him, begged him to help but he couldn't do anything. He felt like throwing up. He gripped the angel blade tighter in his hand. "I hear him too, Dean," she said with pity in her eyes. Dean advanced angel blade slipping from his sleeve into his hand. He snarled.

"You're gonna bring him back," he said.

"Dean," she shook her head, "I can't do that."

"You can and you will. And you'll tell me who else is in on this." He pulled out the angel blade and pointed it at her.

"Where did you get that?"

"I did what I had to do," he mocked. She nodded and grabbed his arms just above his elbows. He eyed her quizzically. As she thrust herself onto the blade he held, she looked at him with pity and sorrow. The screams in her head seemed to echo through her whole body as a bright light exploded from inside her. She crumpled to the ground and suddenly several angels burst into the room. They grabbed him by the arms and ripped the blade from his hand. He was thrust into a chair where they tied him down and duct taped his mouth shut.

When Cas came back, the angels lead him to where Dean was tied down. He glanced from Dean to Hannah and back again.

"Get out," he ordered. When Hannah disappeared he ripped the tape from Dean's mouth and glared at him. "They said you killed Tessa?"

"Not so much," answered Dean, "She knifed herself." Cas didn't seem to believe him. He stared at him as if trying to find the lie hidden in his eyes.

"Dean," he scolded.

"What, Cas? You think I wanted this to happen?"

"I don't know, Dean. Did you? I mean you haven't exactly been the most balanced human of late."

"This has nothing to do with that," Dean growled under his breath.

"Really?" Cas knew. He knew what Dean had wanted; what he thought the reaper could give him. He also knew she couldn't have done it even if she tried. What he didn't know was whether to believe Dean or not.

"Commander," Hannah poked her head back inside, "You have a call from Metatron."


	37. My Family

Hannah stared at Cas as Metatron's face blinked off the screen.

"Have you told them about your stolen grace, Castiel?" Cas looked at his hands. The stares of a thousand eyes weighed heavy on his already stooped shoulders. Even Dean watched him to see what he'd do next. But Cas didn't know what to do. He'd been a soldier for so long. He'd done what he'd been told and when he became Commander he'd done what he thought best. But now it all seemed messed up. Right melded into wrong until black and white were just one grayish clump of misunderstanding. Everything he'd done for the good of humanity, for the good of heaven meant nothing. He looked back up at them, his brothers and sisters, and did his best to pull himself together.

"He's lying," it sounded like a little child blaming their sibling for something they'd done.

"About the grace?" asked Hannah.

"It's complicated," his excuses were weak and he knew it. He looked at Dean for help but Dean just stared at him.

"So he wasn't lying."

"He was about everything else. He...you believe me, don't you?"

"I want to believe you," Hannah shook her head, "But I...we need proof."

"Name it," Cas said eagerly.

"Punish him," Hannah pointed to Dean who seemed to suddenly wake up from a trance.

"What?" Dean glanced from Cas to Hannah.

"He murdered Tessa," she ignored Dean, "He broke our rules."

"Y'all can all go to hell," Dean turned to leave but several angels grabbed him.

"Dean," Cas said.

"You gave us order, Castiel," Hannah continued talking as if nothing else was happening, "And we gave you our trust. Don't lose it over one man. This is justice." She handed him the angel blade they'd taken from Dean. Castiel grasped it and looked up at Dean. Dean stared at him in shock and fear as he saw the consideration in Cas' face.

"No," Cas said. The hand clasping the blade dropped to his side, "I can't."

"What about your family, Castiel?" Hannah asked, "You wouldn't choose them?" Cas looked at Dean.

"I am."


	38. The Replacement

"Y'know you didn't have to do that," Dean glanced at Cas who nodded in reply. Night had fallen around them as Dean drove Cas' car to the bunker. "I mean if you want to go back…" Dean shrugged. Cas turned to Dean with a smile.

"Nah," he said, "This is good."

"But you had a whole army of angels. Now, how are we gonna defeat Metatron?" Cas continued to smile as he stared out at the lonely dirt road.

"I figure, it's like how it was for you and Sam." Dean tensed up. "Just the two of us. The two of us against the world." Dean slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park. If Cas hadn't had his seatbelt on, he might have flown out the windshield. His smile disappeared as he turned confused eyes to Dean.

"Go!" Dean ordered between clenched teeth.

"Dean," Cas whispered.

"I said get out!" Cas nodded and left. When he had closed the door behind him and walked down the road a ways, Dean screamed. He punched and threw and hit everything he could, even honking the horn. He unbuckled himself and got out of the car. The cool night air did nothing to calm his anger. He put his arms on the hood of the car and tried to slow his breathing. A car zoomed by almost taking him with it. As they flew by they laid on the horn, until they'd disappeared.

"Screw you, idiot!" Dean called after them and he hit the car again. His mind raced so fast he had a hard time keeping up with it. Screams still echoed in his head, his screams, Sam's screams. He felt dizzy and weak. He felt as if he were having another out of body experience. Watching himself fall apart. He didn't know what to do. The road seemed so long. The car so confining. He looked to the woods at the side of the road and ran. Branches and twigs scratched at his face but he didn't notice. He didn't feel the cold night air blowing across his face or the blood that began to trickle down the bridge of his nose. He kept running until he came to the bottom of the hill and into a place surrounded by trees. He yelled again wordlessly and pulled his fingers through his hair. He could've pulled his scalp clean off and not felt a thing. He rubbed his hands down his face and then stared at them. They were covered in blood. He hadn't even noticed it until now. He felt like throwing up. He hadn't felt anything. His heart pounded rapidly. Why hadn't he felt anything? In a panic, he ran to the nearest, roughest pine tree and put his hands on each side. He slowly dragged them down the bark. A tiny part of his brain screamed in agony. Pleaded with him to stop. But his hands were numb. He felt nothing. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he stared at his bloody hands. He felt scared and calm at the same time. The voices were still screaming in his head but somehow the pounding of his heart drowned them out in a soothing sort of way. Then he felt something. The cool press of the gun he had stuck in the back of his jeans. He felt nothing. He'd feel nothing. If a man shoots himself in the forest and no one is around, does it make a sound? He pulled out the gun and as he stared at it he heard the voices again.

"The two of us against the world," Cas had said. As if Sam didn't exist, had never existed.

"Take care of your brother," his dad commanded. He'd failed at that. All the voices raced through his head, their tones accusatory. All of those who'd suffered and died because of him cried out, begged him to end it. His fingers were inches from the trigger when he heard it. A voice he hadn't heard in his head since he'd burned his bones, a voice he'd expected to nag him all his life.

"Promise me you won't kill yourself," Sam begged. Dean slowly let go of the gun and it fell with a thud to the forest floor.

"I believe in you, Dean," his memories whispered, "You're still my big brother." Dean fell to the ground and leaned against the tree that was covered in his blood. He sat there and stared at the woods as tears ran down his face. Suddenly silence. The voices were gone. No screaming; no yelling; nothing.

"Cas," he whispered. His head fell into his hands.

It took a few minutes for Cas to find Dean.

"Dean," he said. Dean's head flew up and the old tears he'd been crying were joined by new ones of relief.

"Why'd you come back?" he asked his voice husky.

"I didn't think you'd really want me to go," Cas shrugged, "Listen, Dean. I'm not trying to replace Sam. I just… But if you want me to go…" Cas was interrupted as Dean jumped to his feet and threw his arms around his friend. He chuckled as the angel tensed beneath the hug. But slowly he relaxed. Once the tears had finally gone and Dean could speak clearly again, he let go.

"You ready to go?" he asked. Cas smiled and nodded. Dean clapped him on the shoulder and they made their way back to the car to drive home.


	39. Do You Believe In Miracles?

Dean crept into the abandoned building where they told him he'd find Metatron or Marv or whatever the hell he wanted to be called. He clutched the angel blade tightly in his hand.

 _"You don't have to do this," Cas had said. Dean smiled and shrugged in reply._

 _"I've got nothing better to do." That had earned him a glare to match any of Sam's scowls. Gadreel stood in the doorway staring at the both of them impatiently. He'd met them in the bunker not long after they'd got back from dumping Cas' army. Dean had wanted to kill him the moment he walked into the room but Cas had convinced him to hear him out. He'd told them how Metatron sent the angel bombers to kill themselves and others and to turn everyone against Castiel. That convinced Cas to recruit him to their side, well that and the fact they didn't have much other choice._

The chilly night air blew through the empty halls and rooms of the smelly old building. Strange noises and smells filled the air but Dean didn't notice. His mind was still back at the bunker running through the plan Cas and Gadreel had put together.

 _"I believe Metatron has found a way to tap into the Angel tablet, harnessing its power to give him powers equivalent to…"_

 _"God?" Dean interrupted Gadreel, "He wants to be God, right?"_

 _"Yes, but," Cas said, "If we can break the connection between Metatron and the tablet that would make him an ordinary angel again."_

 _"Where is the tablet?" Dean asked._

 _"In Metatron's office," answered Gadreel._

 _"In heaven?"_

 _"I can get us to the door," Gadreel spoke to Cas as if Dean wasn't there._

 _"And then what?" Dean turned to Cas, "Will they even let you in? I mean Metatron isn't exactly Cas' number one fan. Actually, right now I don't think any angel is."_

 _"I have an idea," said Cas. He hurried out of the room._

Bang! Bang! Dean jumped. He twirled around blade at the ready. Behind him a door blew open and shut with the night wind. He took a breath and continued his slow march to death.

 _"Are you sure you're doing this for the right reasons?" Cas asked. Gadreel shifted from one foot to the other._

 _"I'm doing this to help you." Dean opened the door of the Impala but Cas grabbed it._

 _"Really, Dean? Because I think you're doing it for yourself."_

 _"Damn it, Cas," Dean replied, "Do we need to have this discussion now?"_

 _"I just want to make sure you're not sticking yourself on Metatron's blade like Tessa." It was like Cas had begun reading Dean's mind now that Sam was dead._

 _"So what if I am? At least I'll be helping you while I…" He held back the words "kill myself." It scared him to think them. If he said them out loud he might not go through with it._

 _"Dean," Cas looked back at Gadreel who raised his eyebrows, "Just be careful and don't get yourself killed. At least not on purpose."_

 _"Can't make any promises."_

 _"Dean," Cas swallowed a lump in his throat and Dean thought he saw tears in his eyes._

Dean stopped for a moment as he remembered the worried eyes looking at him. He remembered seeing a similar expression in Sam's eyes so many times; when he'd been ready to give himself up to Michael, when he'd been days away from being dragged to hell. That's when it hit him. When they'd been back in the angel base Dean had been so confused when Cas promised to help his family yet still turned to leave.

 _"What about your family, Castiel?" Hannah asked, "You wouldn't choose them?" Cas looked at Dean._

 _"I am."_

Dean understood now. They were his family. Dean was his family. He'd been so anxious to throw himself onto Metatron's blade as Cas had said that he hadn't thought about the consequences. This wasn't about him, it wasn't about Sam, it sure as hell wasn't about any angel up in Heaven. This fight was for Cas.

 _"Family don't end in blood, boy."_

Dean smiled as Bobby's voice echoed in his mind. He gripped the blade in determination and marched down the stairs to find Metatron. He sat on the floor, deep in some kind of meditation or prayer.

"You can save the humble pie Jesus routine for somebody who gives a damn," Dean growled.

"The problem with you, Dean," Metatron stood up, "Is the cynicism. Always with the cynicism. But most people, even the real belly crawlers living in filth they don't want to be cynical. They just want something to believe in."

"And that'd be you," Dean nodded.

"Why not me?"

"Sure, why not? So long as your mug is in every Bible and 'What would Metatron do?' is on every bumper."

"And? What, are you blaming me for giving them what they want, giving them a brand they can believe in?"

"I'm blaming you for Kevin! I'm blaming you for taking Cas' Grace. Hell, I'm blaming you for Sam if it gives me someone to blame." Metatron laughed.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," he continued chuckling, "What are you doing meddling in other people's stories? You think this is about Cas? Or Sam? This is about you. This is about your story."

"My what?" asked Dean.

"Your story, Dean."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Dean, "But frankly I don't give a damn. I'm not here to chat."

"I know what you're here for Dean. You're here to end your story."

"Something's going to end today," muttered Dean. He lifted his angel blade and began swinging it toward Metatron. He smiled and waved his hand causing Dean to fly against the wall and then fall to the floor. Pain exploded through his whole body. Tiny black dots obscured his vision. The room spun around him as he scrambled to his feet.

"I gave you a chance to continue your story, Dean. But you turned me down. And now I'm going to have to kill you." Dean ran at Metatron. He waved his hand again and Dean flew back. The back of his head hit the wall and he slid to the ground again.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Dean said trying to clamber to his feet again. Metatron kicked him and he fell back down.

"You're really are thick aren't you?" Metatron growled, "I'm talking about you. Dean Winchester the hero. The man who despite all odds saves the world and fights the monster. That's the slogan right? Saving people, hunting things?" Dean tried to push himself up but Metatron stepped on his arm. He cried out. "Yes I read the books," Metatron continued talking as he ground his heel into Dean's arm, "Poorly written crap but people read it so I thought why not? Why not continue letting Dean live out this story and if anything good happens I can write it down? But then it got boring. A hero is supposed to keep fighting, to give people hope. Instead you decided to give up. I mean, drugs, Dean, really?"

"What's your point?" Dean grunted. He could barely feel his arm now and he was pretty sure his nose was broken. The room danced around him and he'd forgotten to struggle. He closed his eyes.

"My point is; your story is over, Dean. The hero's time is done." Dean nodded and sat up, leaning against the wall. He looked over at the angel blade. Metatron picked it up and examined it. Dean put his head against the wall. Suddenly intense pain exploded from his stomach and tore through his entire body. Blood bubbled up into his throat and dripped out of his mouth. More blood spurted from his stomach as Metatron pulled the blade from Dean's stomach. He crouched in front of Dean with a sickening smile. "Unfortunately for you, I like my hero's tragic." Dean smiled triumphantly.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not the hero." Metatron's brow furrowed. The earth shook and Metatron's expression quickly changed from confused to worried. Then he disappeared. Dean's head fell to the cold stone floor.


	40. Tears in Heaven

Cas stared at Metatron through the bars of Heaven's dungeon. He felt as if the other angel had taken his heart and smashed it on the floor like the tablet back in the main office. Now he could only watch as it shattered into a million pieces.

"You're doing the right thing," Hannah said from her place beside Cas, "Letting him live. It's what a leader would do." Cas sighed.

"I'm no leader, Hannah," his voice cracked, "I never was. I just want to be an angel." Without another word, he disappeared.

He arrived at the run down old building behind the homeless camp where the body still lay on the abandoned building's floor. Blood oozed from his mouth and the hole in his stomach. His eyes stared at the wall across from him. Cas knelt in front of him and tried to speak but the blank stare stopped him. Instead, he placed two fingers on Dean's forehead. As he did his best to heal Dean he felt his borrowed grace draining from him as if someone was sucking out all his energy through his fingers. He began to feel dizzy and wobbled a little on his feet. His vision blurred and he felt as though he might throw up. With a gasp, he pulled his fingers off Dean's head and fell sideways. For a moment he blacked out.

When he came to, he leaned against the wall next to Dean. He put his head back against it with a sigh. Cas had always thought that the ends justified the means. That sometimes sacrifices had to be made to protect and restore the world. But nothing justified this.

"Why?" he yelled at the sky, "After all I've given you, why must you take more away?" He couldn't decide whether he yelled at his brothers and sisters, at God, or at Heaven in general. But it didn't matter because nobody heard and nobody answered. Still he yelled, "I gave everything for you. And this is the thanks I get? You selfish bastards. Where's my reward?" His head fell into his hands and he pulled his fingers through his hair til it seemed he'd pull it out of his head.

"Rarggh!" He let out a blood curdling cry that echoed in the empty air. The homeless people just outside wrapped their blankets tighter around them as if to shield themselves from the despair heard in the scream. But for Cas, the despair was silent. Like a weight of pure quiet resting on his shoulder. Seconds stretched into days and minutes became years, or so it seemed, until Cas finally got up and lifted the body into his arms. He began his march through the homeless shelter toward the Impala. He drove the body back to Kansas where he built a pyre and placed it on top. As he watched the flames devour it, he spoke;

"You deserved more than this. You saved everyone and…and…I'm sorry."

When Cas came back all the angels were waiting for him.

"Commander," one said, "What should we do?" Cas looked at Hannah but she stared at him with as much expectation as the rest of his brothers and sisters.

"I have only one command," Cas said as clearly as he could, "Freedom." The angels turned to each other in confusion but Cas had disappeared again.

He found himself in a hallway full of white doors each with the same name on them. A name he'd become extremely familiar with. A name he'd adopted as family. With a sweep of his hand the doors opened not just in this hallway but in all the hallways covering heaven. Light and laughter and beautiful noises drifted out from behind each doorway. An even louder sound echoed down the hallways as large feet came clomping down the hallway towards Cas. He turned to meet the eyes of the much taller man.

"Thank you, Cas."

 **Authors Note: Just a little background for those of you who might not have seen Inside Man yet. Souls who die and go to Heaven get their own little rooms where they live out their memories. These rooms have doors located in Heaven's hallways with the names of the tenants on them. All the Deans are together all the Sams in another hallway and so on. Hopefully this part wasn't too confusing. We're almost there.**


	41. Carry On My Wayward Sons

Dean sat on the hood of the Impala, beer cooling his hand. Next to him sat the memory of his little brother. They stared at the stars shining bright in the sky as the chilly night air nipped at their noses. Suddenly a dark shadow fell over them. Dean slid off the hood and stared warily at the approaching figure. From somewhere inside the forest, appeared Sam.

"Hey, Dean," Sam smiled. Dean glanced at the hood now emptied of the memories that had sat there. Dean smiled back at his real little brother.

"Would you like a beer?" Sam nodded. Dean pulled another cold one from the cooler beside him and handed it to his brother. Sam opened it and pulled himself onto the Impala's hood. Dean sat down beside him. He took a sip of his beer and stared up at the twinkling stars.


	42. Epilogue

In a small town in Kansas, a young red-head made her way to her car after having reunited the dark and light sides of herself. As she neared the little yellow VW bug, she noticed a figure leaning against it. He wore a dirty trench coat and sadness in his blue eyes. She approached him with a weary smile.

"Where is he?" she asked. He shook his head. It was all the answer she needed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She flung her arms around the angel and wept into his trench coat. When she finally pulled away, leaving sloppy wet traces of her sadness on his sleeve, he placed a small box in her hand and disappeared. Inside the box lay a key. A key to a place filled with wisdom and knowledge like no other place on earth. A key to the abandoned home of two brothers. She took the key to Lebanon, Kansas and opened the doors of the bunker.

"You are definitely a Woman of Letters."

 **Authors Note: So here we are at the end of it all. Thanks so much to all my readers, followers and reviewers. You guys are what kept the story going. I know its been long but thanks so much for sticking it out with me and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Reading and remember; Always Keep Fighting!**


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